


Tarnished Silver

by BrokenChosenofEva



Series: Noble Theft [1]
Category: RWBY
Genre: After beacon, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, F/M, Mentions of PTSD, No Maidens, No Salem, Noble Theft, Slow Burn
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-04-09
Updated: 2019-10-14
Packaged: 2020-01-07 07:10:39
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 32
Words: 84,568
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18405686
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/BrokenChosenofEva/pseuds/BrokenChosenofEva
Summary: They saved Beacon from Cinder's schemes, and stopped Adam and his Fang. Fifteen years later - after graduation and starting their careers as Huntresses - Weiss is on her own, North of Vale and just looking for a meal and a room.(Co-written, Beta'd, and edited by Zephyrus Genesis, an amazing writer you can find over on Fanfiction net)





	1. Reunion

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This story was completed over a year ago. Or rather, it took about a year for me to decide it told what I wanted, and that if I had more to add in the future then I could do drabbles.  
> Since it is - bar some final editing - complete, I will be uploading every Monday. Should the uploads manage to outpace the edits, I'll be sure to put a note at the end of a chapter so all of you will not be left wondering.

Wood struck brass in a ring of greeting as she stepped into the tavern, glad to be out of the rain (little more than a light drizzle) and letting the door shut behind her. She was only slightly damp, fortunately, the Dust lining her attire repelling most of the water so it was really only her hair that was wet. All the same, the warmth of life and hearth was a welcome relief to the darkening chill of falling night.

So, one hand absently brushing an edge of curved silver as her other settled on Myrtenaster’s pommel, Weiss squared her shoulders and crossed the tavern floor to approach the counter. Her request for a coffee and a sandwich being met with an affirming nod, that done, she selected an empty table nearer a secluded corner and took a seat, glad to finally be off her feet.

_Looks like a storm’s brewing._ She mused with a trace of dark amusement. Rolling clouds and heavy rains, a perfect match to her equally dour mood, though it raised the question as to whether she’d get much, if any, sleep that night…

Well, sleep or not, at least she had shelter and the silent promise of a clean, though not necessarily warm, bed to rest in. Settling back in her chair as she waited for her order, Weiss let her gaze wander around the room and the assortment of characters scattered throughout.

The locals were easy enough to distinguish, clad in worn but well patched clothing dirty from the long day’s work, relaxing and visiting amiably with neighbors and friends before returning to their own homes for the night. Their manner tired, though content as, while perhaps not _thriving_ they were surviving well _._ Others were more like Weiss herself, travelers seeking a brief respite before forging onward on whatever journey they were on, clad in more complex outfits in various states of repair.

For some reason or another, Weiss found her attention settling on one in particular: a somewhat scruffily clad man who’s dark shirt and off-white vest, while rumpled and touched with travel dust, were obviously of a higher quality than most of the tavern’s other patrons save for Weiss herself. Higher quality, yet obviously made for hard use, rather like Huntsman attire.

_Hm…_

For want of anything better to occupy her mind, she continued her examination of the maybe-Hunstman. Clothes aside, she wasn’t entirely sure what had made him stand out to her in the first place, and it was an acceptable time waster trying to pin it down. He had no weapon that she could see, though that didn’t mean much, and his clothes weren’t _quite_ eye catching enough to support her theory.

In fact, the most eye-catching feature of the man was his hair, covered though it was by a bandanna, his bangs long enough to obscure half of his face as he stared down at the half-filled glass before him.

A frown marred Weiss’ brow, an odd sense of _familiarity_ nagging quietly in the back of her mind. That shock of orange combed to one side, ending in an almost feathered curl-

Like the flip of a switch, recognition dawned and was followed immediately be denial. _It couldn’t be._ She reasoned as the waiter brought her food and drink. The odds of such a happenstance meeting was infinitesimal and while she couldn’t deny the similarities, she couldn’t ignore the obvious differences.

She took a sip of her coffee, nibbling absently at her sandwich.

_Not so many differences_. She had to admit. Mostly just shallow aesthetics. Not that she herself really favored the same style as she had ten years ago, what with the white dress and bolero of her youth now replaced by her current gray blouse and combat skirt under a dusty red blazer.

But what if…

Well, if he _was_ who she thought he was then…this certainly wasn’t what she’d have expected. Not from him. In her mind’s eye she could still see the immaculate suit and feather-tipped hat.

She could almost hear a chirpy, sorely missed voice egging her on, urging her to _investigate_ the mystery that was all but begging to be solved _._ An urging she really had no reason to deny. If she were wrong it was no skin off her nose and it may even prove amusing.

So, that decided, she lingered just long enough to deposit a polite tip before collecting both plate and mug and leaving her chair. The man didn’t seem to react as she sat down across from him, instead continuing to stare deeply into the viscous amber pooling at the bottom of his glass. It let her take advantage of the closer proximity to continue her previous examination, noting the angled lines of his jaw and what may have been dark liner around a visible jade eye.

Next to certain now, Weiss waited a moment (several, actually) to see if he’d acknowledge her presence in some way. He didn’t, and eventually curiosity (and the silent urgings) won out over justifiable caution as she leaned forward, arms braced casually against the tabletop between them. “Hello, Torchwick.”

The corners of the Master Thief’s mouth quirked up slightly as he at last met her gaze. “Ice Queen.” He returned pleasantly. “Fancy meeting you here.”

“It’s…been a long time since anyone’s called me that.” Blinking away a sudden wash of pain-tinged nostalgia, Weiss shrugged. “And I could say the same of you.”

Offering a nonchalant shrug of his own, Torchwick straightened up and leaned back in his seat. Giving her a lazy once over, his gaze dropped briefly on the emblem fastened to her belt, lingering a moment before rising again to meet her eyes.

“It was you…wasn’t it?” Chest oddly tight, Weiss let her fingers brush again along the edges of the silver rose as she held his gaze. Not exactly a question, but she hoped the slight tilt of her head properly conveyed her curiosity. The unvoiced question.

Canting his head, Torchwick gave her a wan smile. “I’m sure I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“No…” Weiss sighed, letting the fluttering hope slip from her grasp. “I don’t suppose you do.” She eased slightly in her seat, expression relaxing into a safe neutral with neither a smile nor a frown. “I never got the chance, so please forgive me for wanting those words off my chest.”

Torchwick let out a low hum, vaguely amused, but otherwise held his peace.

“It’s odd…no, let me rephrase…” Frowning, Weiss looked him over again. “You look different, without your suit…”

Swishing his glass lazily, a faint smirk settled on the man’s face before he took a small sip. “That’s kinda the point.”

“Fair enough.” She allowed, sipping her own drink, and finding herself unable to resist further fishing. “Bit far from Vale, though, aren’t you?”

“Also the point.” Gloved fingers drummed against fogged glass. “That warrant was never rescinded and I rather like my head where it is, thank you very much.”

_Oh…_ The wince that brought was genuine. Weiss had never hated the felon, like she’d never hated her Father or the SDC. Not like she’d loathed Cinder, or despised Neo. Two hates that had long since burned out. It simply wasn’t worth the energy to dog ghosts.

“Junior complains about you not visiting.” Weiss blurted in a hushed tone, mentally cringing as Torchwick quirked a brow at her. Surely she could have opted for a better topic. _Like what?_ A darker part of her mind snarked. _The weather?_

Small talk. How she loathed it.

Torchwick gave her a somewhat curious look. “Does he, now?” He tilted his head again. “That starved for intelligent company, are you?”

Yes. Yes she was. Not that she’d admit it out loud. “Yang used to go there sometimes.” Weiss said instead, somewhat defensive before she made herself relax again. “He’s…easy to talk to.”

“He is indeed.” Another lazy swish of his glass as Torchwick stared into the amber liquid sloshing inside. “Nice to know some things never change.”

“He had some gray, last I saw.” She felt compelled to add, inwardly relieved that she hadn’t committed some faux pas. She’d made more than her fair share inside the past decade. “That was…” Pausing, she reviewed the date. “Early last month.”

“Must’ve run out of dye.” Was the blasé response. “He’s been gray for decades.” His lips curled into a sly smirk as he added. “Stress-induced gray.”

“I can’t imagine why.” Weiss deadpanned, smirk on her own face as she quirked a brow at him, which only prompted a wide-eyed blink-of-innocence in response. At that, she rolled her eyes, letting a chuckle escape. “Of course.” Pausing, fingers tracing the silver rose once more as she stared past him at nothing in particular. “…Are you doing well?”

“Meh.” A shrug and a waggled hand. “Could be better, could be a helluva lot worse.”

“He’ll be glad to know. That I saw you, I mean.” She offered a careless shrug as her fingers curled around the emblem at her waist, then she smirked again. “He even managed to make _me_ worried, if you can believe that.”

“That’s Junior,” A cheery quip touched with obvious fondness. “spreading the misery around.”

“He certainly does that rather well-”

“Closing in a few minutes, you two.” Head snapping up, Weiss saw the tavern keeper gesturing to the quickly emptying room. “If you’ve paid for one, get to yer room. Otherwise, please leave.”

Torchwick glanced over his shoulder at the man, then glanced at the nearest shuttered window, rattling under what was obviously the start of the promised rain, before looking to Weiss once more. “I’ve got a room if you don’t want to get your hair wet.”

Jerking straight in her seat, Weiss let out an annoyed huff as she fixed the man with a somewhat offended look. “I _can_ pay for my own room. Maybe I’m just a former-heiress, but I’m not _poor_.” Looking down stiffly, she wrapped the mostly-untouched sandwich in a napkin, placing it in her pouch for later, when her previous tone registered and she winced, looking up again, somewhat contrite. “But…I’d be grateful. Please, lead on.”

Standing, completely unbothered by her brusqueness, Torchwick offered a slight bow as he took her offered hand. “This way then, milady.”

Weiss blinked at his gentle grip, letting him help her to her feet, and followed as he led her back in the direction of the rentable rooms. The owner, she noted distantly, was watching them as they passed. Part of her couldn’t help but feel a bit heckled at the look, but she ignored it with practiced ease. She wasn’t a Schnee, anymore, so what did it matter how this might look to the uninformed?

The room Torchwick had rented was small. Smaller than the dorm Weiss had once shared with her team, but seemed less cramped in comparison. Granted, such enclosed quarters were not meant to house a rowdy quartet of adolescents for months at a time, so that’d explain the apparent discrepancy. Against one wall was a twin-sized bet, worn but decently maintained, with a vanity desk against the wall opposite and pair of stools against the third wall, beneath the window. It was, she could readily admit, certainly better than she could have hoped for considering some of the other taverns and inns she’d visited over the years.

“ _Soooo~_ ” Sauntering across the room, Torchwick flopped, albeit gracefully, down on the further stool. “What’s a former heiress to do these days? I’ll admit I’ve been curious since I heard _that_ juicy bit of gossip.”

Was that supposed to be a jab?

“Can’t you tell?” Arching a brow, Weiss tossed her head and gestured to her attire and faithful weapon. “I’m a Huntress. Just like I wanted.”

“Really?” Elbows on knees, he let his chin rest on steepled fingers. “Word on the grape vine contradicts the simplicity of your statement.”

Ice blue eyes narrowed. “And what word would that be, Torchwick?” Tense, Weiss let her arms fold beneath her bosom. “This _is_ what I wanted, tabloids be damned.”

That got an arched brow. “You know…” He hummed thoughtfully. “I can’t tell if you’re trying to pass it off, or if you really don’t see it.”

“Just spit it out.” Voice clipped, she leveled a glare at the man even as her fingers dug indents into her arms.

“Nah.” Stretching back, careful not to overbalance, he had the gall to flash her a cheeky grin. “I think I’ll let you puzzle it out.” A pause. “Though for the sake of fairness, I’d say a little red’s colored that immaculate snow of yours.”

Was _that_ why he’d invited her back here? To prod at old hurts?

“You mean my jacket? It’s as close to Ruby’s color as I can stand.” Though she tried, Weiss could feel her ire flaring beyond her control as she tugged at the hem of her blazer, a haze wavering across her vision. “Or are you referring to how I was _disowned_ by my father for hunting Yang and R-Ruby’s killer?” She almost choked on the words. “Because neither are _fucking funny, Torchwick_!” That damned grin never faded, but perhaps a hint of steel had entered jade eyes, to which Weiss sneered even as she failed to bury her pain. Didn’t even bother trying. There was no point. “What? Want me to say it? ‘ _Oh how the mighty have fallen’_ , I’m just an ex-heiress out doing ‘ _commoner’_ work, disowned and down on her luck. Go ahead, point and _laugh-_ ”

The sudden poke to her forehead snapped her from her tirade, and almost reeling from the seat she couldn’t remember taking. Torchwick’s grin was gone now as he stared at her. “Missing the forest for the trees, Sweetheart.” Leaning back again, his gaze flickered down to the rose emblem on her hip and jade eyes softened. “You’ll see it, eventually.”

Still sputtering, Weiss watched him, a puzzled frown settling on her face. “It…it’s what she wanted…” Oh Dust, please don’t let her start _crying_ now. “It’s what _I_ want. I just…” Wilting, she looked away. “I don’t know if she’d be proud of me…I failed them. Even Blake-”

“Short term?” Something in his voice made the Huntress glance up again. “Maybe, but I have a feeling they’d disagree. Long term? Not so much?”

“What do you mean?” Weiss muttered, gaze drifting down to lock on the silver emblem.

“Not _tel-ling~_ ” Was the sing-song response. “You need to figure it out for yourself, Sweetheart.” A deliberate pause. “Might help if you stopped to smell the roses once in a while, rather than burn yourself out.”

_Oh for…_ What was _wrong_ with the man? One moment he seemed almost sympathetic, the next he was teasing her again!

“I’m _not_ burning myself out.” Huffing, Weiss crossed her arms again. “I don’t understand why you can’t just say it, instead of maintaining this _mysterious_ air…” And there _was_ something more to what he was saying, she could all but taste it. Like those subtle barbs she’d grown up with, concealed under pretty words but no less sharp for it.

“Uh…” Cocking his head, Torchwick gestured pointedly to himself. “Eh?”

“Right, of course. How could I forget?” The man had the audacity to snicker and, in spite of herself, Weiss found a chuckle bubbling up as she let her arms drop again, smile touching her lips. “It’s still you, even now, isn’t it?” Still the rapscallion, refusing to conform to commonly acknowledge ‘propriety’ be it with his criminal profession or his deliberate flouting of social etiquette. “I…I suppose I thought there wasn’t anyone left, just me and my memories…”

“Heh, I hear ya.”

An almost comfortable silence fell between them. Lingered a long moment as Weiss felt the contours of silver petals one more time before looking up again. “Torchwick…”

“Mm?”

“What…” Her voice caught, so she cleared her throat, squaring her shoulders and crossing her arms. “What are your plans for tomorrow? My mission is already over and reported in, so…” She trailed off, leaving it an open question. Former animosity aside, they _knew_ each other and she wondered whether he’d push her away or continuing maintaining this façade of friendship.

If she were honest with herself, being rejected wouldn’t hurt, but she hoped he might let her in. It had been…a long time since she’d worked with anyone. Anyone she knew, at least. And whether Torchwick was legitimate these days or still deep in the black market…

Weiss didn’t think she cared.

He eyed her curiously before shrugging. “Depends on the weather, really. Probably stick around here if it’s still raining. Got a few days before I actually have to be anywhere.”

Not a rebuttal, but not quite an invitation either.

Good enough.

“If you aren’t against it, and it’s not _too_ illegal, I might stay around.” Shrugging, Weiss glanced out the window and the now heavy rains obscuring all beyond. “I…guess I could use the company.”

“Yeaaah…bit of a wall flower, aren’t you?”

Again with the teasing, but Weiss found herself more flustered than annoyed and immediately grateful for the tan nurtured over years of constant sun. It meant her blush wasn’t near as obvious as it had been on her once pale skin. “No one really pays attention to disinherited heiresses, unless it’s over some public faux pas.” The admission came out in a low murmur.

“Oh, you’d be surprised.” Torchwick chuckled. “But, no, I’m not against you sticking around.”

Looking back to him, brow arched at the comment, Weiss allowed a smile at the verbal consent.

“Be nice to have some intelligent company for a while,” He went on carelessly. “Even short-sighted company.”

The snipe got a frown, and the nagging sense that she was missing something. “I see I’ll experience no shortage of snark from you.” Not necessarily a bad thing, a verbal joust may be just what she needed and none of his teasing had been truly hurtful or malign, just mischievous.

He shot her a winning smile. “Always happy to be of service.”

Now she rolled her eyes. “I’m sure, Torchwick.” Slowly, she stood from the stool. Stretched slightly. “Now, I need to go secure a room for myself. I’ll scroll it to you- you _do_ have your scroll, yes? Perhaps we can meet over breakfast in the morning…”

“I suppose now would be a good time to mention that there aren’t any free rooms at the moment?”

Weiss couldn’t quite manage to suppress her wince. “Oh?” She tried for casual, unconcerned. “Well, I…”

A careless wave of a dark-clad arm cut her off as Torchwick gestured in the direction of the bed. “Stool’s comfy enough.”

Blinking, she had to take a moment to reconcile the apparent conflict between words and motion. She balked. “I’m not making you sleep on a _stool_ , Torchwick!” Weiss rocked back on the heels of her boots. “I’ll…I’ll just sleep on the floor, if you’d spare me the comforter.”

Another gesture, incredulous this time, to first the sparsely-made bed and then to the rest of the room. Torchwick gave her an arch look “A _comforter?_ Are you serious?”

“It’s better than what I usually get on missions.”

“Just take the bed, Ice Queen.” Weiss flinched at the nickname, nerves still feeling a touch raw, as Torchwick stretched out once more, settling so his back rested firmly against the wall behind him while his legs stretched out before him, crossing at the ankles. “Really, I’ve had worse.” Folding his arms across his chest he let his head dip, eyes already closed.

The tension eased from her shoulders as her expression softened. “I suppose you have.” Moving to the bed she shucked her boots and socks, pausing just long enough to hang her blazer on one of the bedposts before pulling the covers back. Hesitating, she looked back to the already-dozing man. “Thank you, Torchwick.”

“Don’t mention it, Sweetheart.” Was the murmured response.

It felt like it was intended to be mocking, the nickname, the tone, like everything else in the man’s attitude, yet, somehow, it left her…calm. As if it were one of Yang’s nicknames, a teasing title to express whether she liked or hated you. Comforting.

Slipping between the sheets, Weiss settled with her back to the room. An action atypical of her. Ever since she’d begun traveling on her own she always kept her back to a wall. But… Torchwick wasn’t a threat, and she highly doubted he was a heavy sleeper. If there was a threat, one of them would wake to it.

Knowing that someone else was there to keep watch…maybe she’d get more than her usual quota of sleep tonight.

Hopefully, if that wasn’t the case, she wouldn’t bother him if she woke in the night.

**-0-**

In the darkness of the rented room, Roman woke. For a moment, he remained perfectly still, feigning continued sleep as he took stock of his surroundings in search of what had disturbed him. No one had entered the room, there were no screams to signify a late-night Grimm incursion, and there were none of the other warnings of imminent danger.

Not a threat then. That let some of the coiled tension ease from his muscles, though he remained alert nonetheless as he sourced out the disturbance.

It was the whimpers that registered first, followed by the shifting of cheap (if sturdy) sheets. Opening his eyes, Roman glanced in the direction of his impromptu roommate and honestly couldn’t find it in himself to be surprised.

Stretching, and waiting for the inevitable mid-inhalation hitch of breath to pass, he stood up. Fixing the shuttered window, clattering slightly under the continued downpour, with a moody stare as he rubbed absently at various sore areas, he moved to the bed. He didn’t have to be a Faunus to navigate the darkness, not like there was anything to trip over in the sparse room, and the faint ambient illumination was more than enough for him to make out the shape of sprawled limbs and tangling covers.

Small, stuttering breaths suggested tears (Roman could almost swear he could taste salt when he inhaled) and the lack of response to his approach assured him of the little Huntress’s continued lack of consciousness.

Nightmare. Obviously.

Letting out a low sigh, he reached out. “Hey, Ice Queen-”

“ _NO!”_

_Guess I had that coming…_ Roman mused, stumbling back from the flailing blow with a wince and brutally smothering the urge to cough. Grunting, he leaned forward again to catch first one, then the other wayward not-quite-a-fist and pinned them to the mattress as he barked: “Hey! _Wake up!”_

There was a sharp gasp and a violent jerk, but not so violent as to break his grip, as the little Huntress snapped awake. Struggled a moment at the restraint. Then went mostly limp as her frame shook with barely-suppressed sobs and strangled breaths.

“T-Tor-Torchwick? I- I…what? Where?”

“The Tavern, remember? You bunked in my room for the night.”

“Your…” He felt her strain slightly under his grip and he eased up, taking a prudent step back. “Right…right, the tavern. I-”

Taking a calculated risk, Roman reached out to let one hand rest on a narrow shoulder. “You’re keeping a wanted thief company.” He couldn’t, quite, keep the irony from his tone.

“You’re the only one who hasn’t left-”

Roman wasn’t sure if it was a hiccup that cut her off or if she’d choked on her words. One dainty hand snapped to her mouth, smothering any further sound save for her audible gulps for air. He waited as she counted down, recognizing the calming technique for what it was. Under his hand he felt her pulse slowing from its frantic rhythm as she tried to control her breathing. She was moderately successful, though the persistent hitch remained

“Hey.” Roman let his thumb brush against her sweaty brow. “It’s alright.” He felt the faded roughness of keloid tissue and felt her breath hitch again at the contact.

Once more she counted down, and Roman waited patiently for her to finish. By the end she was markedly calmer, though some tremors remained.

“I’m- I’m fine, now. Sorry I woke you.”

“Don’t worry about it.” He shrugged off the apology, letting his hand settle back on her shoulder. “Honestly, I’d be more concerned if you _didn’t_ have nightmares. You’re coping abilities are kinda nonexistent.”

An indignant huff. “I cope perfectly well.” The would-be scathing retort was kinda ruined by the lack of heat and continued quiver in her voice. She took a breath, held it a moment, then slowly let it out. “I normally bunk alone. I’d thought…I thought it wouldn’t bother me.” A scoff. “Should’ve known, with the storm, that was a pitiful hope.”

“Bad nights, they sneak up on everyone.” Roman reasoned, glancing at the shuttered window again. “Can’t say I blame you for the storm bit, either.”

“Not me…” The words were soft, pained. “We found Ruby on a night like this. I’ve never slept through a storm since.”

The image of a still form covered in more red than fabric would account for flashed through Roman’s mind and he couldn’t quite stop his grimace. “I know.” He felt, more than saw, her shift to look at him in obvious surprise.

“You…is…that why?”

“Among…other reasons.”

“…oh.” There was an awkward clearing-of-throat before the young woman twisted enough to sit up. “You’re making us both uncomfortable.” She stated crisply. “Sit.”

“If you insist.” Roman sat on the edge of the bed and let the darkness hide his grin as he felt annoyance waft from his roommate.

“Actually sit, Torchwick…” A soft pat to the mattress beside her. “I won’t bite…”

That- No, _no_ , he’d be a good gentleman and refrain from jumping on the obvious opening. Really, it was too obvious and he didn’t really fancy the thought of being swatted again. Still, it was almost too tempting to resist.

“I could use the company.” The little former heiress went on obliviously. “At least until I fall back asleep.”

She made it really hard for a man to behave himself.

“Yeah, well, kinda working not to offend your delicate sensibilities, here.”

A snort. “If I had any _delicate_ sensibilities left, I’d have never followed you in here.” A huff and he saw her silhouette pat the mattress again, harder this time. “And if I had none at all, you’d have been here instead of on that stool. _Sit._ ” Order given she shifted back to lean against the wall, obviously waiting.

_Woof_. Well that about took all the fun out of the situation now, didn’t it?

For a long moment, Roman remained where he was, staring at her intently, checking for any hidden motives or intent. Seeing none, he shrugged and did as requested.

“Finally, someone _listens._ ”

He grinned at the muttered words as he settled beside her, a polite distance between them.

“Like keeping watch.” Uh-oh, rambling incoming. “Only no fire, we’re indoors, and technically should be watching each other but for now we’re allies not enemies-”

“Well,” Roman cut in. “I’ve never been one for offing a bedpartner, a bit too crude for my tastes.” He almost lost his composure entirely as she choked and sputtered outright.

“D- did you absolutely _have_ to say ‘bedpartner’ in that tone?”

“What tone?” Heheh, even his grin was audible.

“Of course.” Was the huffed response and he thought maybe she was smiling in return. The tension eased out of her gradually as the silence stretched between them. It wasn’t long before Roman heard her breathing even out at last.

He was in the middle of debating whether he should return to his stool when a sudden weight on his shoulder made him glance down. Gravity had beckoned and the little princess had tipped against him.

Heh.

“Sleep well, Sweetheart.”

**-0-**

Consciousness, for the first time in _years_ , came in a slow, gradual manner. She was warm, back to a wall and bundled in the sheet with a warm body in front of her-

Body?

It took a moment for the cotton to lift from her mind and the memories of the previous night to resurface.

“ _Torchwick…_ ” She breathed, feeling a slight burn of mortification at her complete loss of composure after her nightmare. But only slight, she found she couldn’t muster the energy for true indignation. Instead she settled for freeing a hand and pressing it lightly against his bare back. The man twitched slightly at the touch (confirming that he was, in fact, real and not some delusion) but otherwise didn’t stir.

She had a wanted felon out cold in her bed. Ruby probably would have found the situation hilarious _._ Yang _certainly_ would have, and given no respite to the crude jokes that would surely have followed.

Clearing her throat, Weiss nudged him harder. “Torchwick. Sun’s out, we should be getting up and making plans…” Belatedly she registered the feel of naked skin beneath her palm. The realization didn’t stir much, if any, reaction from her. So much so that she had to wonder at her _lack_ of reaction to waking with a man sharing her bed. Granted, on top of the covers (all but pinning her in her little cocoon) but it was still sharing a mattress. And a mattress not really meant for two people at that, no matter how petite she had remained, Torchwick was by no means _small…_

Dark coils over pale flesh drew her attention. A tattoo, she realized after a moment’s confusion, of sharp brambles stretching across his right shoulder and along his back, drops of blood hanging from the scattered thorns and framing the vivid red rose set in the center of the design. Her gaze shied away from the centerpiece, instead following the brambles as they curled lower until a patch of discolored skin on his lower back caught her attention.

An achingly familiar style of discoloration. A scar. An old stab wound matching the killing blows both Yang and Ruby had suffered. A single, deliberate thrust from a honed estoc blade.

Obviously Torchwick hadn’t escaped Cinder scot-free.

Sitting upright, absently noting the presence of Myrtenaster resting within easy reach, Weiss took the opportunity to look over the sleeping man beside her. As she’d thought the night before, lack of obvious weapons did not mean weapons were not present: a collapsible baton rested in his sleeping grip, its twin on the vanity atop a folded pile that was his shirt, vest, and bandanna. His hair, now loose, was mussed and framing his sleeping face. Unaware as he was, he seemed almost at ease, though she doubted he was truly relaxed. Was likely ready to burst into motion at the slightest hint of danger, in fact. A necessary reflex for one living as dangerous a life as he.

_I shouldn’t be taking this so calmly…_

Something to think about later. For now, she had a day to greet and things to do. “Torchwick, wake up you lazy miscreant.”

“Says the one who slept past noon.” Was the immediate response. As she’d thought, the appearance of ease had been exactly that. The man rolled to lay flat on his back, hands tucking behind his head as he gave her a lazy half-lidded look.

Weiss blinked, unable to help a sense of dismay though it was quickly replaced by resignation. “A wasted day.”

“Well, I wouldn’t call a full dose of uninterrupted sleep _wasted.”_

“It is when it uses up a day better spent planning or going to the next mission.” She huffed, taking the opportunity to glance over him again and wincing at the sight of a vivid bruise over his ribs. “That looks recent. What happened?”

Torchwick glanced down. “Ah, well…” A shrug. “Silly ol’ me forgot that Huntsmen come up swinging. Not my brightest moment.”

_Come up sw-_

“Oh…” Wincing again, Weiss realized the bruise was roughly the size of the back of her fist. Then winced once more as she noted a _second_ patch of puckered skin at the bruise’s center. _Ouch._ Clearing her throat, she gave it a pointed look before meeting his eyes. “I see you aren’t as good at escaping as you always made it seem…”

He looked almost amused. “Sure I am. I’d have been a Grimm’s dinner otherwise.” She doubted he was being metaphorical this time as a light frown marred his brow. “And they cheated.” Torchwick gave another shrug. “Sides, I’m still kicking. Same can’t be said for _them_.” His grin was accented by a sharp, malicious flash of teeth.

“True.” Weiss’ matching grin lacked any real heat, old grudges held only in her memories, left long behind. “So, do you have any plans? The rain seems to have stopped and I’m not really on any set schedule. I just…drift from town to town.”

Yawning, Torchwick stretched out to his full length, various joints cracking audibly in the process. “Not sure, still early yet.” Relaxing again, he swung up into a sitting position with casual grace. “I’ll just have to see what crops up.” He glanced at her before getting off the bed and moving to the vanity.

“A drifter? That…seems rather unlike you.” Brow arched, she watched him move about in the light of mid-day streaming through the window. Had he opened the shutters earlier? She certainly hadn’t, but wasn’t complaining as it brought to light features of the man she hadn’t noticed previously. Such as the faintest hint of gray at his temple. As he tugged his shirt over his head she wondered how old he was now.

An amused smirk drew her attention. “By the way, got any hobbies?”

Weiss blinked. “Other than reading, not…really.”

“Sweatheart, you need to learn to live a little.” He chided, buttoning up his vest. “Even the Kitty-cat does more than that.” Dexterous fingers combed through orange hair, fluffing it before he replaced his bandanna.

“You’ve seen Blake?” It hurt to hope, hurt to show it, but despite this being _Roman Torchwick_ she didn’t feel any real need to conceal any vulnerabilities. He’d already seen her nightmares, after all, and had offered comfort and support in place of contempt or jeers. “How long ago?” And if, maybe, she wished to avoid her own shortcomings a bit longer, then no one would call her on it.

Leaning back against the vanity as his arms folded over his chest, Torchwick arched a dark brow. “You honestly think I’d willingly get within a hundred miles of that little queen?” He snorted at her dirty look. “Hardly. I might know a guy or two in the area, though. They keep me updated.” A considerate pause, then he added: “Last I heard a certain peel-throwin’ monkey was trying to talk her into going to Mistral. A certain amount of begging may be involved.”

“Sun is still hounding her, then?” Weiss asked, eager for more information. “I’m glad. I’d asked him to keep an eye on her, and keep in touch, but of course I’d forgotten who I was asking. I’ve never heard of him keeping his Scroll charged more than _he_ needs it to be.”

“Yeah, he does seem to have an aversion to Scroll calls.” Torchwick grinned. “There’s a story involving a stolen scroll, snail-mail, and a sticky note that my contacts love laughing over.” He paused deliberately, then added. “I should add that the stolen Scroll belonged to his _partner.”_

That promised to be a hilarious story. “You’ll have to share it with me sometime, so I’ll have something to taunt him with the next time I’m out in Vacuo. I-” A chime from her Scroll, a truncated version of a Grimm Alert Siren, had her dropping the sentence in favor of scrambling over to answer it. “This is Weiss.” She shot Torchwick a distracted, apologetic look as she focused on the voice on the other end.

In her peripheral vision she could see him moving about the room as she listened to a report of a looming Grimm incursion on a nearby village that threatened to be too much for local defenders.

Ending the call, Weiss looked up and began to speak-

-to an empty room.

That…stung. Odd as it was to admit.

“What, no ‘goodbye’?” She murmured, leaning back against the wall. “I didn’t think we were still that much at odds…” Shaking her head, she straightened up again. Much as she’d dearly love a shower, it would have to wait until _after_ the village was safe.

Belting Myrtenaster to her side, she left the tavern.

**-0-**

_**[R.B.T.]** _

Bemused, Weiss stared down at the number she had most certainly _not_ put into her Scroll’s contact list. For a reason she couldn’t quite pin down, the sight of it brought a smile to her lips and, for a moment, her finger lingered over the ‘ _Call’_ option. Then she scrolled up to tap Ruby’s code.

Maybe she wouldn’t be able to make it for this year’s anniversary, but she at least she could do this for her lost partner.

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> As you saw from the tags, Beacon doesn't fall; Salem doesn't exist; the Maidens aren't a thing; and Penny and Ozpin are still around. But as you also saw, in the chapter above, no good deed goes unpunished.


	2. Fine Line

It was a conundrum.

Weiss did not like conundrums. She liked it when life was a nice and simple black and white, where the right answer was the obvious one and that was the end of it. So she’d been a little annoyed when, well after the fact, it had struck her that she’d spent the night with a convicted felon – one with a death warrant, no less – and it hadn’t even occurred to her to report it to the proper authorities. That sort of lapse wasn’t like her, laws were written for a reason and she was obligated to follow them. Except…

Did it matter?

In perfect honesty did it matter whether or not she reported him? It wasn’t as if there weren’t slews of other Huntsmen and Huntresses ‘rubbing elbows’ with other less-than-stellar-examples of society.

In fact, Weiss had come to discover there was an entire _quid-pro-quo_ subculture involving the use of underworld contacts and informants. Some of the _women_ Qrow knew… Anyway, she’d been aware of it in a peripheral sense and knew of those who took regular advantage of it, but hadn’t yet crossed that particular line herself (sans her occasional chat with Junior and his ilk back in Vale) until that night at the Tavern. If it could even qualify as such.

Still, it wasn’t too late to start, she’d reasoned. No real reason she couldn’t start getting more involved in the wider scheme of things. Besides, it wasn’t as if Torchwick had done anything truly abhorrent, that lovely distinction went straight to his former employers. So, partially out of curiosity, partially to justify the half-formed wisp of possibility, Weiss had pulled some strings to get a look at Torchwick’s files (somehow she wasn’t surprised to find he had not one, but _two_ ) because surely it couldn’t be that bad.

As it turned out, she was wrong.

It was _worse._

‘ _Willful wrecking of a train resulting in death’_ had been the first thing to catch her eye and it had startled her enough to nearly shatter her composure into a completely undignified fit of giggles. She hadn’t realized that such had been, as Yang would have put it, a _thing_. A quick check had revealed that, yes, that actually was a real charge. One _predating_ the whole Breach incident.

After collecting herself, Weiss had settled in to read the file properly, faint smile tugging at her lips.

It fell quickly.

Too many to list at once, each accompanied with a ‘summary’ (listings up to multiple _pages_ in some cases) detailing repeated infractions. Weiss could admit to glossing over a great deal of the file’s content. And still a great deal seemed to rear out and _demand_ her notice.

 _-Disorderly Conduct & Disturbing the Peace-_  
-Petty Theft-  
-Aggravated Assault-

The timestamp of those… _Dust_ , he must have been younger than _Ruby_ had been when she’d started Beacon. A lifetime criminal. Nearly each and every one was preceded by a ‘ _Multiple counts of-‘._ And it had only gotten worse as he’d gotten older.

 _-Destruction of Public Property-_  
-Fraud & Embezzlement-  
-Resisting Arrest-  
-Multiple _counts of Criminal-Contempt-of-Court-_

The deliberate emphasis of _that_ particular ‘multiple’ stood out to her, but Weiss couldn’t really find it in herself to be surprised. It was _Torchwick_ , after all.

 _-Escaping Lawful Custody-_  
-Assault with a Deadly Weapon-  
-Grand Theft-  
-Manslaughter: Involuntary-

It continued along that line for some time, expanding into more exotic charges as if for ‘flavor’, each one tailoring more specifically to whatever heist or antic Torchwick had indulged in and profited (greatly) from. Each severe and undoubtedly worth a lifetime sentence by themselves, yet never crossing that invisible _line_.

Weiss could see immediately when he’d fallen in with Cinder’s ilk.

 _-Conspiracy-_  
-Murder during racketeering offenses-  
-Crimes Against Peace-  
-Murder resulting from the smuggling of illegal aliens-

That had gotten a snort, but in a way, it _did_ fit. Sure the riffraff and cannon fodder were likely locals, but the more influential of the White Fang cell were obviously ‘out-of-towners’. It was just as obvious that they hadn’t gotten into the city legally, considering their status as wanted terrorists. All the same, something about some of those charges struck her as somewhat funny– In the ‘ _not right’_ sort of way rather than the ‘ _ha-ha, what a riot’_ kind of way.

 _-Death resulting from offenses involving transportation of explosives, destruction of public property, and destruction of property related to foreign and interstate commerce-_  
-Willful wrecking of a train resulting in death-  
-Crimes Against Humanity-  
-Murder by use of weapons of mass destruction-  
-Treason-

Oh Dust, that was the Breach. And _only_ the Breach. Perhaps she’d been otherwise distracted, but Weiss hadn’t realized how _severe_ that had been. Not when they’d been able to head it off (mostly) and cut off any more Grimm from getting inside while wiping out any that already had. It had been a mess. Just another day in the life of an aspiring Huntress, slaying monsters and saving lives. Ruby’s influence, obviously, because _those_ …

Each and every one of those charges was grounds for execution _alone._

And it only spiraled worse from there.

 _-Murder by an escaped federal prisoner already sentenced to life imprisonment-_  
-Murder of Federal, State, and Foreign law enforcement-  
-Destruction of aircraft and related facilities resulting in death-  
-Mass Treason-  
-Attempted Genocide-

She finally had to shove it aside, taking a shaky breath to try and calm down again. Once her heart had calmed from caffeine-high-hummingbird to a more sedate just-ran-a-marathon she had to laugh.

 _Serves me right for reading his_ Atlas _file, first._ She mused, side-eyeing the giant file. Another steadying inhale and her pulse finally settled to a more appropriate at-rest pace. _Honestly if it’s as if they’re trying to peg Torchwick as the Root of All Evil._

That last bit had a distinctly _Ruby_ note to it, which made the space behind Weiss’ sternum ache even as the ghost of a smile tugged at her lips. It was very much like something her partner would have said, dramatic emphasis and all. The thought helped calm her yet further, even stirring a quiet huff of amusement as she made the tension leave her shoulders. Really, the only reason she’d chosen the Atlas file first was because it was larger and logic suggested a more in depth dossier.

It had nothing to do with the fact that she haled from Atlas and _may_ have a slight bias towards it, even after all the years spent living in Vale. Honest. But in hindsight it was a foolish move anyway considering Torchwick hailed from _Vale_ and had, so far as she was aware, never been anywhere near that far north in his life.

Mistake acknowledged, Weiss pulled the second and significantly smaller file towards her, flipping it open to the first page. While Atlas nursed a particularly rabid grudge towards the Master Thief due to the thoroughly bruised ego of one General Ironwood, Vale boasted a more objective view point even when it comes to High Criminals thanks to the moderating influence of Headmaster Ozpin.

That said…

It was still pretty bad.

 _Dead if he’s ever caught within Vale territory, and for good reason._ Weiss winced, but continued reading regardless. Already she was finding things the Atlas file had either overlooked or _deliberately_ chose to omit when they were compiling data. _Dust, over a decade and I_ still _see conspiracies everywhere when it comes to politics._

Of course, in this case, was she wrong? Knowing Ironwood, and the Atlas Council… Nope.

This wasn’t about the cesspit of vipers that was her home Kingdom, this was about figuring out whether she should report her encounter with Torchwick. So that’s what she was going to focus on. And the focus was that, yes, Torchwick had very much earned his death warrant. Many times over, in fact, but the Vale file made a point of highlighting how his situation wasn’t as clear cut as Atlas clearly wished to believe.

Or have others believe.

 _Known mercenary tendencies,_ was one line that came up more than once in the Vale file and it stood out to her as if printed in bold with a highlight added for good measure. It seemed that, left to himself, Torchwick’s crimes rarely escalated beyond Fraud & Embezzlement and Grand Theft with only the odd Manslaughter; Involuntary as if for flavor. _That_ particular case left Weiss squinting suspiciously at the auspiciously worded report. Something about it struck her as _odd_ but she had no idea why, and there wasn’t near enough information in the nearly two decade cold case for her to even begin to grasp why. But she digressed.

Though the file didn’t state it outright, it seemed that the worst of Torchwick’s transgressions only came about when he was acting on another’s behalf. What made this particularly interesting was how, scattered amidst the reports, was the occasional note stating Torchwick’s penchant for _limiting_ overall damage when compared with other figures of similar skill sets.

 _He’s most dangerous when he has an employer_. Weiss realized, intrigued despite herself. _When he_ doesn’t _have one, he almost vanishes into the background._ Or as much as a flamboyant thespian such as the master thief could vanish.

 _Like he vanished for_ ten years _?_

Interesting. _Very_ interesting. As Weiss recalled, Torchwick had dropped off the grid at some point – she couldn’t recall when exactly – during the whole debacle with Cinder, some point after the Grimm Invasion and the destruction of the Atlas Flight and, so far as she knew, that had been the last anyone had heard of him.

Until she’d seen him in the Tavern, dressed like some vagabond who at least understood the notion of maintaining personal hygiene. A far cry from the crisp suit and fancy cigars he boasted of during his run in Vale. To say nothing of the weariness that touched his frame, the almost subdued note to his voice when she could – if vaguely – remember his almost boisterous tone back when she’d been just a student.

 _He_ left. Weiss realized, holding her breath at the realization. _Or ‘cut and run’, as Yang would have put it._

That. That told her a _lot_.

Enough that she had to stop, close her eyes a moment and simply breathe, before firming her resolve and looking at all the information before her, but from the files in front of her and her own personal experience.

“Torchwick is a wanted criminal.” She voiced, feeling the fact _click_ into place. “On that alone, I have the lawful obligation to report him.” Also fact, but the impulse to _act_ on it was…minimal. “But _why_ should I report him?” The question that had been, in some form or another, been plaguing her since reality had sunk in and tapped her on the shoulder. “Anything he’s done that would be worth reporting is… Well, they don’t matter now, it was over a _decade_ ago.”

The worst of Torchwick’s crimes only came about when he was working for someone else, and none of ‘someone elses’ were a problem any longer. There would be nothing for him to gain in pursuing their long-dead agendas.

That reporting him would undoubtedly lead to a mass manhunt with her being dragged into the news was something she deliberately did not think of. Or, even worse, the likelihood of being called to court to testify for events a decade past. Events she simply couldn’t muster the will to accurately recall, for doing so would mean _remembering RWBY_ as it used to be.

No. That was something she could not do.

“Since Cinder,” Weiss began again, dragging her mind back to task. “Torchwick has done nothing wrong…nothing newsworthy, at least. So he left of his own accord, breaking away-” She remembered old scars cradled among ink thorns. “-at risk of his own life, and never did anything of that nature again.”

Never took on another employer, either, if that pattern of when he was most visible held still even now. So, instead of gathering infamy and stolen riches as he’d once done, he’d become a scruffy drifter, snarky and mocking but…when she’d stirred from nightmares he’d been patient and gentle and never once exploited her vulnerability even when her own accidental blow practically demanded retaliation.

Instead, he’d just stayed with her, just because she’d asked, and hadn’t tried to push for _anything_ , even when her current state meant she’d likely have gone along with it wholeheartedly. He’d been, dare she even think it, _kind_.

That…did not even remotely resemble the anarchistic sociopath Atlas’ File portrayed, or the opportunistic mercenary as described in Vale’s File.

_He’s different now, not the man he once was._

Different, perhaps, but undoubtedly as sharp as ever. Maybe he no longer ran the blackmarket or underworld, but if he didn’t still dabble in it Weiss would melt down Myrtenaster and drink the alloy. She’d encountered enough ‘shady types’ to know that one did not simply _leave_ that kind of life, any more than a Huntress ceased Hunting. Then there were the odd tidbits Junior let slip on the rare occasions they met and coordinated.

 _He could be…useful._ Much more useful free than standing before a firing squad. And clearly he wasn’t…adverse to a potential deal. He’d left her his _scroll code_ , after all. That could be incredibly dangerous if she let it slip to the right people. And that, perhaps most of all, was what told her Torchwick had _not_ lost his edge. A man such as he would not have survived so much if he wasn’t canny, with a handful of backdoors to slip through should things go south. Clearly he’d have precautions in place should she betray the tentative display of trust he’d shown.

 _He’s already shown to be capable of causing_ incredible _damage with next to no hesitation. He can just as easily do so again if provoked._

If she reported him there was a frighteningly good chance that whoever got the case might do just that. There were too many unknowns when it came to the Master Thief. Who knew what sort of contacts Torchwick had, and it had been repeatedly shown that it only took _one_ person in the right place to…

“Best not to poke the sleeping dragon.” Weiss mused, her mind helpfully bringing up all the _stellar_ examples of law enforcement she’d witnessed over her career. Just thinking of any of those individuals trying to catch Torchwick sent a chill of dread down her spine even as she heard a familiar whistle and _bang_. “Over a decade of staying so well below _anyone’s_ radar that general consensus listed him as dead. He’s not a threat to the Kingdom, now.”

Barring provocation, Torchiwck would only be a threat now if he was hired by a malign employer, though Weiss doubted he’d be so foolish as to work for someone even remotely akin to the likes of Cinder Fall ever again and Roman Torchwick was anything but a fool.

Hm, there was a thought.

 


	3. Nightmare

Weiss chased after her partner’s sister, Blake somewhere nearby but out-of-sight, unable to gain any ground. Yang was fast, and even in the narrow back streets they flew through she was aggravatingly maneuverable, planting her feet on a wall and firing Ember Celica to change direction just as sharply as Weiss did on her Glyphs.

They were in pursuit of Neo Politan, the erstwhile cohort to the currently missing—and presumed dead, though RWBY knew better than to believe that—Roman Torchwick. They had divided to search, and only Yang’s weapons fire had clued Weiss and Blake in that the tiny criminal had been found.

 _This isn’t how it happened!_ she cried in the prison of her own mind, _Yang was alone, we were back at the apartment…_ She scrambled for purchase in the dream, trying to wake from the nightmare, _I don’t want to see this!_

Weiss eventually lost sight of her blonde teammate, but something kept guiding her. After a moment she could hear Ember Celica, Yang’s roars of frustration echoing nearly as loud in the stillness between shots, the sounds coming less often and weaker.

“NO!” she yelled, rocketing around a corner only to see Neo standing above Yang’s body and twirling her Epeé before sheathing it in her parasol. Fire still flickered in the long, gold locks, but was fading…guttering out. Weiss’ blood turned to ice in her veins, her heart hurting with each beat as she fought against the realization that Yang was gone.

Two voices cried out, pain and rage in equal measure, and the Heiress turned to see Ruby aiming for Neo even as the bi-colored woman skipped back with an excited expression as Blake dashed for their fallen teammate.

Ruby had never moved so fast in her memories, and yet Neo still matched her. The two women danced around the plaza, hate and amusement personified, somehow avoiding the grieving Faunus hunched over the dying embers that was her partner. Buildings fell, concrete tore, the very air screaming to match the Red Reaper as she pursued the taunting sprite.

And all the while, Weiss stood rooted, frozen in time as she watched in growing horror. Her night-terrors were never kind, she never was allowed to see either woman, either friend, survive.

The scenery shifted, Yang and Blake gone, as the white-themed Huntress watched her best friend – her first friend – in the world duel with the pink-and-crème killer in the rain. The forest around them wavered, pounded by the down pour and slapped with gusts as Ruby accelerated across the clearing. Weiss knew what was going to happen, despite not being there.

And how she wished, with every fiber, that she had been by her partner’s side. They were unstoppable, _RWBY_ was unstoppable, when together. A perfect team. But not tonight – _but it must have been day, and only cloudy, back then –_ and never again after this. She would give anything, everything, to have them back. To at least have _Ruby_ back! She’d chased Neo, to avenge their deaths, and it cost her both the SDC and her place as a Schnee. And for what?! Nightmares and a hollow apartment. Long and empty roads, a broken friendship with the last member of the best ‘Family’ she’d had!

_No…_

Ruby was flagging, and even though Neo also showed signs of slowing it wasn’t enough. It was never enough. As the red-themed woman charged, the smaller woman sidestepped and planted her parasol, drawing her blade from it.

_No._

Ruby rebounded from the shielding umbrella, and was a moment too slow recovering.

_NO!_

Weiss watched – in slow, agonizing detail – as the thin blade arced out, straight and true, to pierce through faded Aura and into Ruby’s heart.

The cry that tore from her was raw, broken, as she watched the brunette fall back from the lethal stab, her partner’s head turning to look at her and mouth something as sorrow etched her face.

“ _I’m sorry, Weiss._ ”

**-0-**

“No!” bolting upright, Weiss whimpered as she tried to catch her breath. _A nightmare, just a nightmare_ , she thought, over and over, but it didn’t help. Her chest hurt, and she couldn’t seem to slow her panicked breathing, her mind and body tearing her apart as she struggled to ground herself in the here-and-now. Reaching up to the not-quite-new, not-quite-old scar above her brow, she began tapping a slow rhythm, “F-fifteen, fourteen, th-thirteen, twel-ve, e-ele-ven, ten, nine, ei-eight, se-ven, six, f-f-five, four, th-three, two, one…”

She repeated the pattern twice more, finally calming though now her tears flowed freely down her face as she sobbed softly. Several minutes later she finally stopped—reduced to the occasional hiccup with tears on her cheeks—and noticed the presence kneeling beside her bed. Jaune Arc.

 _Oh…that’s right, I’m in Mistral…_ Weiss drew her knees to her chest, ducking her head and letting her long hair shift to hide her face, “I’m sorry if I woke you. Go back to bed, Jaune.”

“No way, Snow Angel.” His voice was soft, apologetic, and she flinched away when his hand brushed her shoulder in an attempt to comfort her. His next words were softer, “You wanna talk?”

“No.”

“Come on, might hel-”

“I said no, Arc.” She breathed, cutting him off, tilting her head enough to see him through her bangs, “I’m grateful, but it’s just a nightmare. An old one.”

“I’ll be in the next room.” Thank Dust he knew when to step back, and she watched him stand and move to the door to her borrowed room in Team JNR’s apartment, “I was already awake, early mission. Ren and Nora are supposed to be back in about four hours, around eight.”

“Alright, thank you.”

Jaune gave a nod, stepping out the door.

“Jaune!” Weiss called, soft but urgent enough his head snapped back into the room, “ _Thank you_ , for… for checking on me. I’m genuinely grateful.”

“No problem, Weiss.” He offered a grin, watching her a moment before speaking again, “We might not be your team, but we’re here for you.”

“I know. I know you are, Jaune.”

She waited until she heard the front door close, and now knowing that Ren and Nora were away on a mission she knew she was alone. Pulling out her scroll, her thumb hovered over Ruby’s icon before shifting to Roman’s instead. Tapping it, she spent the next several minutes trying to decide if bothering him was worth his time.

Dust knew her own time was void of anything worthwhile until her skills were called upon.

With a sigh, she closed the message application and set it back down. No, there wasn’t a reason. Just because he’d been friendly once—and continued to be, sending her occasional updates on himself or Blake—didn’t mean he’d be willing to hear from her for anything other than her own informal updates or news from Junior.

“ _Mirror_ ~,” she hummed softly, alone as she always was, “tell me some _~thing~…”_

The tears didn’t stop until nearly time for her own mission.

 


	4. Shady Business

Some days it almost felt like she was back with her team. Really. Prior going to Beacon she’d lived a fairly uneventful life as a major company heiress, after though… Well, after it felt like she couldn’t go a week without tripping into some _ridiculous_ situation or another. Usually it was Ruby’s fault, but Yang was hardly exempt and then there was Blake and the Docks, and then later that Rally…

Was it something in the air? Contagious by proximity? Then again, it may just be her own bad luck because of _course_ something like this would happen just after she’d _finally_ managed to begin picking up the pieces of her fractured life. It was the only thing she could think of to explain why she had apparently walked into the makings of a straight-to-disk movie plot.

A bad one.

One filled with enough clichés to make her sensibilities want to go groan in a corner.

Was it really too much to ask for a bit of peace? Time to properly reconcile with the shock that came from, after years of adamantly believing she was fine, realizing she had been anything but? To realize just how _blind_ she’d been in all that time, to all the things sitting right in front of her? Even to deal with the irony that had been her wake up call: a simple dinner with a Faunus family in a more secluded village. Nothing special, or even notable save for the matched pair of ‘kitten’ Faunus who had apparently adored her. Four years old and absolutely _tiny_ and those _ears…_

A more drastic contrast with her father’s ideal of a Perfect World she’d be hard pressed to find.

It hadn’t been until late the next day, as she’d eaten trail rations on the road, that she’d realized it had been her first genuine _family_ meal since her Team. It had shaken her so badly that she’d wept bittersweet tears, but she’d felt…perhaps a little lighter afterwards. And that night she’d slept better than she had since that night in the tavern months prior.

Her newfound…contentment? Peace? Whatever it may be, it did not keep all the nightmares away and she still had days where she found herself more listless and apathetic than she thought it possible to be, but it was a start. The saying went, after all, that after hitting rock bottom, the only way to go was up. Provided some actual effort was put into doing so. Thus she’d started visiting more with the villagers she encountered, rather than only doing the bare minimum her mission-of-the-day required, and found herself invited to join evening meals on a more regular bases.

It was as if all the world had been gray, and then suddenly snapped back into Technicolor and _life_. So much she had previously missed, now vividly apparent to her now. Things hadn’t felt so clear since before the loss of Ruby, nor had she registered all the people that existed around her, be it while in town or traveling on the road. Threat of Grimm or no, some people stuck to more nomadic ways. A great deal of people.

While it didn’t seem to change much for her personally, it only further cemented her decision to live out Ruby’s dream. It was…important, not just an occupation that Ruby (and she herself if she were being perfectly honest) had lived for.

And with this newfound sense of _purpose_ was a dash of…it wasn’t hope, per say, she honestly wasn’t sure _what_ to call it, in the form of semi-regular communications from Torchwick, or _Roman_ as he’d insisted she call him, citing that theirs was hardly a professional relationship and thus there was no need for formalities. Though she’d yet managed to get him to use _her_ name, former or otherwise. Anyway…

They weren’t anything special, just random little snapshot images with captions attached. Mostly humorous, always quick to draw a laugh from her as Roman dramatically lamented the ridiculousness or idiocy of what went on around him, but scattered between them were the odd photo of Blake, or Sun, or any number of people she knew. An assurance, she realized, that they were alive and doing well and she didn’t have to worry.

In the beginning she hadn’t responded to them. Merely saving them in her Scroll’s Archive before continuing on with her day. But that hadn’t lasted long and she soon found herself replying in kind, a short comment, or even an image of her own, and when she stopped by Vale she’d send him updates on people _he_ knew, as well as pass on short messages from Junior.

It was…nice, having someone to message with. For things other than sparse mission briefings or curt ‘I’m still alive’ messages or the odd ‘ _rent passed due’_ notifications (notifications which were fewer now, she realized) for the too-large apartment she kept in Vale. Really, she should just stop maintaining it, pack everything in storage until the time she selected a more permanent abode, but it had been something Team RWBY had selected as a group. Something they’d done together, each adding their own input to make it a _home_ , and Weiss simply couldn’t let that go, for all that she visited it on maybe a bi-yearly basis.

In that, she could not only understand, but sympathize with Blake’s clear avoidance of Vale.

But she was falling off topic. While good for morale, the regular communication with Roman offered her something else: an _In_ she might, just maybe, be able to use. A link to his expertise in the less-than-upright part of society. The current situation was obviously volatile (though nothing had blown up yet, figuratively or otherwise) she couldn’t go to the authorities of Vale’s militia for lack of any substantial evidence.

Perhaps Headmaster Ozpin could offer her support, the man had contacts _everywhere_ , but again, his hands would be tied by lack of actual _proof_. Which chaffed. Weiss _knew_ the hints of blatant underhanded dealings and conspiracy when she ran into it.

In that, Roman may be able to help her. He lived and breathed for this sort of scandal, or at least that was the impression she had gotten of him back when he’d been more openly active. She hoped he’d be willing to help, if need be she’d _pay_ him for his efforts.

Scroll in hand, she hesitated a long moment, then clicked the ‘ _Call’_ option.

“Twenty-four-hour locksmith.” A cheery voice chirped after the first ring, an honest to Dust _chirp_. “You lock it, we pop it.”

“Well, that answers one of my questions, I suppose…” Weiss mused before she could stop herself, smile coming to her face. Then she stopped, worrying absently on her lip. “Roman…how would you feel about doing some underworld digging for me?”

“Do my ears deceive me? Are you actually asking for a _ne’re-do-well’s_ help?”

“I’m serious, Roman.” She huffed into the receiver, rolling her eyes. Then she got straight to the point. “I think- no, I’m _certain_ I’ve stumbled into some sort of conspiracy. I want to stop it, but my usual channels are not feasible at this time. Will you help me?”

A thoughtful hum sounded from the other end of the line. “What did you have in mind?”

“At the very least I need solid proof of underhanded dealings. Neither side is clean here and the villagers are caught in the middle.” She paused, hesitating. “Would…would you be able to meet me here? I think I can afford a week’s wait, maybe even two, before things start getting out of hand but the sooner things can be done the better. I’ll send the coordinates-”

“No need, I’ll be there tomorrow.” A _click_ sounded before she could formulate a response.

Pulling the Scroll from her ears, Weiss glared at it. “Honestly, do you have something against a polite ‘good bye’?”

**-0-**

By noon the next day, Roman still hadn’t shown himself. Granted, considering how she’d nearly overlooked him back in the tavern, odds were good that he could have very well walked right by her and she wouldn’t have noticed. That it had been _years_ since she’d seen him prior that was beside the point. He also hadn’t specified when he’d arrive, only that it’d be ‘tomorrow’, meaning anytime before midnight of that evening, but she’d assumed (and yes, she was fully aware of the anecdote there) that he’d arrive _before_ lunch. At least she’d hoped he would.

 _He is under no obligation to drop whatever he’s doing just because I asked for his help._ She reminded herself, firmly, as she turned back towards the village inn for a cooked meal. _This is no more than a favor, it’s not like we agreed to any payment…_

“Miss Weiss?”

Pausing mid-stride, Weiss glanced up at the woman who’d spoken. A Faunus, she noted, if the tapered, white tipped ears were any indication, now approaching with an almost shy demeanor but still smiling anyway. “Yes, can I help you?”

Again she was acutely aware of how Ruby-like the ready response was. Something she’d observed more often of late and which tugged at something in her chest.

“If you’d like, as it is nearing lunch, my family and I would like to invite you to dine with us.” The woman smoothed the leg of her pants, worn but well-kept, and offered a shallow curtsy. “It’d be an honor to entertain such a well-known Huntress, and a privilege to be able to thank you properly for your help.”

“I’d hate to impose…” Weiss began, only for her stomach to chime up in a reminder that she hadn’t eaten since dawn, and only a light meal at that. In front of her, the woman looked to be suppressing a flicker of amusement. “But thank you, I think I will.”

As she was led to a modest house not far from the ‘business district’ of the generously sized village, Weiss realized the other woman had not offered her own name. A passing notation, of no real importance so she paid it little mind. Once inside she noted how her hosts were fairly well off by the handsome, well-kept interior, a step up from some of the other homes she’d visited in the past. But that had already been apparent with how the home itself was a _home_ , rather than a shop with living quarters built in as well as being in the village proper rather than the outskirts.

Passing through a large dining and living area into a small study, Weiss’ hostess offered a polite bow before excusing herself from the room, exiting through a second door on the other side of the study and leaving the former heiress alone.

Or not so alone. It took her a moment to note the other’s presence, spinning about to face them-

Froze. Blinking at the familiar white coat, pristine and seeming brand new (which it may well have been) with the iconic scarf and bowler hat topping it off. Roman sat, Melodic Cudgel resting against one knee, as he looked over his Scroll.

Then he looked up as if just noticing her.

“Hello, Sweetheart.” A soft _click_ sounded as his Scroll snapped shut. “Miss me?”

“You lied.” Of all the myriad of responses that sprang to mind, why did _that_ one have to come out?

Almost hidden by the brim of his hat, Weiss thought she saw him arch a brow. “You’re complaining?”

She managed to maintain her neutral expression for a moment before a smile won out and she rolled her eyes. “I suppose not.” Shrugging, she moved to take the chair opposite him. “I suppose I’m not surprised by the deception. I didn’t used to be very good at accepting hospitality. I’m still not, sometimes, but I’d like to think I’m getting better.”

The amusement glinting in the visible jade eye softened. “Nice to see you’re not burning yourself out anymore.” A blink, and he was all business again. “So, I’ve had a look-see at the situation and find I must ask: What did you have in mind, exactly?” He waved his Scroll for emphasis. “Several ways to go about this, some I’m guessing you’ll shoot down point blank, but what I do next depends entirely on what it is you want to achieve here.”

“I…” In all honesty she hadn’t thought much of it, only that she wanted the danger to innocent lives dealt away with. Frowning, Weiss dipped her head, thinking, before looking up with her expression set and determination hardening ice-blue eyes. “I want them completely discredited. Locked away if possible. But by the truth. No more lies.”

Roman dipped his head in acknowledgement. “Manageable, though not as quick to accomplish as planting just the right here-say in just the right ears. Not by much, though, they aren’t nearly as discrete as they think they are.”

“I have nothing else pressing at the moment.” Weiss confirmed, resting back into the generous plush of her seat before tensing slightly as she addressed the ‘elephant in the room’. “I’m afraid I won’t be able to pay you outright for your troubles, but I’m willing to trade effort for effort. After we’re through here, I’ll work for you until the debt is settled. I’m certain you’re at least passingly familiar with my current skill set.” She was not nearly as confident as she made it seem, there was a perfectly legitimate chance that Roman _didn’t_ have need of her services, not when he could likely hire other, more skilled Huntsmen or Huntresses who’d be willing to do his dirty work. Speaking of… “Within reason.” She added. “I won’t be your assassin or thief.”

“Fair enough.”

The easy acceptance let some of the tension ease from her frame and Weiss offered a grateful smile. “Well, let’s go over those plans, shall we? I’m sure you have something in mind already. Not to rush you, of course, but I’d rather finish this sooner than later.”

“Of course.” In one fluid motion, the Master Thief rose to his feet, cane coming to rest under one arm as he stepped across the room. With the hand still holding his Scroll, he gestured to the study desk. “Why don’t you tell me what your suspicions are, and I’ll fill in the blanks where I can. From there, we can see how best to start this.”

**-0-**

The mess, and there was no other way to describe it, ended up being a fair bit larger than she’d first thought. Once Roman had begun to _really_ dig into the situation it became clear that the unrest stretched through several nearby towns and even had roots back in Vale proper. The latter revelation had required Junior’s aid as Roman had, rather understandable, refused to go within a hundred miles of the city. It had also had the convenient effect of offering her a _legitimate_ explanation to how she unearthed the problem in the first place _without_ breathing so much as a hint to Roman’s involvement.

In fact it let her give an almost entirely honest report, which was good because the idea of having to lie to _Ozpin_ wreaked absolute havoc on her nerves. Mostly, said nerves were suppressed by the still jubilant satisfaction of cutting the problem off at the knees and watching everything they’d set up crash down around their ears.

Ah, violent imagery. Though none would argue that they hadn’t deserved it.

“-nior’s contacts, along with my own, were able to assist me in wrapping things up.” Weiss finished, Scroll in hand as she stood at ease with the neutral expression she used for mission debriefings. “I doubt I’d have managed as much as I did without them.”

From the screen of her Scroll, Ozpin smiled at her. “A job well done, Weiss.” He praised. “The city’s militia will be able to handle things now, with the ‘ring leaders’ in custody really it’s only the clean up that remains.” He paused a moment, then added. “Though I feel I should inform you that in tracking the illicit funds it was discovered that their various accounts had already been emptied.” – _Darn it, Roman._ Weiss thought – “By some opportunist capitalizing on the confusion, I’d expect. ”

Honey brown eyes held her own blue and Weiss felt a nervous sweat break out as a chime of ‘ _whatever makes you say that?’_ sounded through her mind with a cheery innocence that would have fooled no one.

“Not that it matters now.” Ozpin continued pleasantly. “Even had they the funds for bail freedom would remain out of their reach.”

She shook her head, willing the cobweb of memories away even as she resisted the impulse to fidget like a guilty child. That amused expression Ozpin had worn for the entirety of her report was not helping, either. That maybe-flicker of _knowing_ in those bespeckled eyes…

 _Bah._ The paranoia was getting to her. “That’s unfortunate but you’re correct. They won’t be walking free.” Weiss took a moment to consider anything she may have omitted unintentionally, then dismissed the concern. It didn’t matter, she’d already sent in her written report. Doing so verbally was little more than supercilious habit. “If that’ll be all, I think I’ll be taking a month or two off. The pay recently has been good and…I just feel like enjoying some time to myself.”

Why did saying that make her feel even more guilty? It wasn’t a lie, exactly, she _had_ made a decent amount of lien of late, it was just that she’d be going to pay off her debt to Roman rather than indulging in ‘vacation time’. Still, this was a better option than having to put a potentially-critical mission on hold in order to answer a summons.

“Of course.” Ozpin’s smile softened. “It’s good to see you aren’t completely wrapped up in your work as a Huntress, however commendable your work ethic may be. Take what time you need, you have my and Glynda’s contact codes.”

Weiss returned the smile. “Thank you, Professor Ozpin. I’ll contact you when I’m ready to return to Huntress work.”

“Have a good evening then.” And with that, he cut the call.

Leaning back against the porch railing, belonging to the same house she and Roman had appropriated as their ‘home base’, Weiss took a moment just to relax, enjoying the crisp evening air. _Was it really that obvious?_ She wondered, remembering Roman’s own admonishments of her work habits. _Was I really working that much?_

Feeling no answer coming, Weiss straightened up and made her way back inside. It was a nice break, but it was time to start planning for her ‘vacation’ as one of Roman’s thrall.

 


	5. Intrigue

Watching the elegant figure leave his office, Roman let a satisfied smirk settle on his face as he returned to the seemingly unending influx of reports to look over and acknowledged them as needed. What would she think, he wondered, if she knew he was actually stealing said paperwork from his aids (he refused to call them _secretaries,_ unless they annoyed him) in order to have an excuse to remain in one location for longer than a few days? His typical ‘schedule’, and he used the term lightly, actually involved lots of traveling. This let him stay on top of things and make sure first hand that no one was sabotaging his operations.

That it also made him harder to track was a nice plus. Even after almost a decade there were still the odd persistent Hunter out for his head.

But this was simply to rich an opportunity to resist, he just _had_ to see it transpire for himself! It was a once-in-a-life-time rare treat to watch another truly come into their own, with a few helpful nudges here-and-there in the right direction. Roman doubted the Ice Queen was more than peripherally aware, at best, of her own development.

It was like watching a seedling, withered and brown from lack of sun and water, gradually begin to flourish with just a hinting of the developing buds that would eventually bloom. Not that the Ice Queen seemed aware of just how much she’d improved. Abstractly aware that things were better than they had been, yes; but not quite _grasping_ the full scope of it. But that was fine. He could see it all too well.

Contrary to what she might think – if she thought of it at all, that is – that first meeting in that little hole of a tavern had been an honest accident. He’d finished dealing with a particularly delicate situation that had needed his personal touch and had retreated to the tavern – in a neighboring town from where he’d been operating – for the evening. If only to himself, Roman could admit he hadn’t really been at his best. He had been tired, on the tail end of one of his Bad Days, and to make things worse it had been raining; and all of his deeper scars had _ached_ such that it was hard to move, hard to think.

He’d recognized her the moment she’d walked in.

What he’d seen had surprised him, though he’d been careful not to let anything show or even be caught giving her more than a single once-over. He could remember the fight on the highway clear as day, could remember the poise and grace and defiance mantled around her. But that night in the tavern, oh the poise and grace had still been there, but of the defiance? Only faded embers remained.

 _What a shame._ He’d thought at the time, and hadn’t been able to resist ‘poking’ her to see if he could get a response. And respond she did, but not really what he’d been expecting. Seeking _his_ company? Willingly? After the things he’d done, to both the Kingdoms at large and her and her team personally? He could easily admit that curiosity had driven his actions from there.

And, if only in the privacy of his own mind, Roman could also admit that he’d been wanting for intelligent company as well. Company that _wasn’t_ a subordinate. It had been…relaxing.

The change in her posture the next morning, though slight, had only fanned his curiosity. He’d kept more of a conscious eye on her after that. Not that he hadn’t kept track of her basic whereabouts before that (with all the trouble her team had accidently-on-purpose caused him he’d have been a fool not to) but he’d made it a point to keep track of her mission listings so as to have a pretty good idea of where she was, or would be, at a given time. He’d been content with that, and had again focused his attentions on the operations he had, either in motion or in planning.

Then she’d surprised him again.

When he’d left his Scroll Code in her contacts list he hadn’t really thought it would come to anything (not that he hadn’t had fallbacks in place should the code end up in more ‘virtuous’ hands) and at most it had been intended as a parting barb, the snapshot-messaging nothing more than a convenient time waster. So he’d been caught rather flatfooted when she’d called him, and not only called him, but called him with a _business proposition_.

How could he say no?

The changes he’d seen in her when she’d walked into that sitting room, as compared to how she’d been at the tavern, had been immense. So much so that the idle curiosity he’d initially entertained grew to actual interest as he found himself wondering ‘ _how will that potential grow?’_ And yes, he could see and appreciate the irony there.

He’d been thinking of ways to continue nurturing that potential even before they’d hashed out a rough ‘contract’.

She’d yet to disappoint him.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> As this was another short chapter, I'm uploading another right after.


	6. Contract End

Strolling – honest to Dust _strolling_ – through Roman’s headquarters, Weiss found a sense of... ease, here. Oh, she was fully aware of the more _unsavory_ jobs the Master Thief’s men did, but it wasn’t the same as her memories recalled.

For one, Roman was never in the spotlight. A showman around his clients and men certainly, but it had been a very long time since his face was on the news. For another, many of the jobs were beneficial in some way. Granted, most of those went to her, but she wasn’t one to complain. It had helped her begin building a net of people willing to help her in return, and to reconnect with some of those she’d helped in the past. She could even admit to seeing some of the attraction Roman, Junior, and Qrow must have for the information business.

It also – and she was more reluctant to admit this, as it proved her wrong about just how ‘fine’ she’d claimed to be – helped her reconnect with people in general. It opened her eyes again to the actual world, and not just job after job in some endless cycle.

The naps helped, she could admit.

It had been odd, at first, spotting Roman napping at some random part of the day. And never on any consistent schedule that she could deduce. It seemed that at any spare moment, he’d find an out-of-the-way place and simply doze off. She’d asked about it, one time, and he’d brushed her off with a claim that running his people was a twenty-four hour job and sleep was a commodity best hoarded.

It had annoyed her for a little while, but eventually – after a long chain of missions from him – she had again found him napping. Instead of waking him, Weiss opted to join him. She’d been tired, and despite wanting to give her report and find her own room, the idea of a nap was, for once, appealing.

So she’d found a free space next to him, and curled up.

She’d woken some time later feeling surprisingly well rested, and had opened her eyes to Roman’s smirk inches from her face. Weiss could admit that she _may_ have overreacted. Just a little. Naturally, Roman had found her defensive sputtering hilarious, cackling softly as he remained crouched next to where she had been laying. Then he’d brushed the incident aside entirely by asking for her overdue report.

Of course that was hardly the only thing she’d discovered about him, during her tenure as his subordinate. They spent far too much time in each other company for her _not_ to notice some things.

One in particular stood out to her.

Actually, it was more like a bunch of little things, things she hadn’t noticed before or simply hadn’t stood out without the proper context. Be it when they discussed a mission briefing over a meal, or during the odd times when she was permitted to witness one of his clientele meetings.

Seemingly inconsequential things which consolidated together to form a distinct facet of his apparent nature, all concealed in the slight shifts in expression or adjustment of tone when he interacted with someone. _Deliberate_ shifts and _deliberate_ adjustments she’d realized only after prolonged observation, subtle machinations meant to steer conversation and in whichever predetermined direction he’d chosen. Weiss had been rather annoyed to realize she herself was often on the receiving end of this maneuvering, and was honestly unable to avoid reacting to it despite being forewarned. Only in hindsight would she actually spot it, otherwise it went right over her head.

But there was more to it than that. More than just his handling of everything around him. It was in the even rarer moments in between, when he _wasn’t_ putting on a show for an audience, when they in fact seemed to forget he was there.

Moments when he all but faded into the background, wit and humor falling away as he _watched_. No expression, no emotion, just a silent _calculation_ as he considered his options.

Was that his true face, she’d wondered, or yet another mask? The possibility of it being the former was disturbing. The thought of the man she’d gradually come to know being nothing more than a _persona_ …

Was it?

Was all that sass and snark, the occasionally volatile temperament – the core essence of whom she identified as Roman Torchwick – nothing more than a front covering the manipulative, calculating, and almost truly apathetic nature of the Master Thief? Was every show he gave, every game he set in motion, a mask specifically tailored to provoke the most beneficial results out of the situation at hand?

Or was the apathy itself a defensive mask that let him rest and better interact with the world around him? Much like her own (poorly constructed she’d admit) mask back when she’d first attended Beacon.

Was it both?

It... hurt a little, not knowing for sure, and was slightly off-putting aside. But it grabbed her attention as well. The thought, the _possibility_ that they weren’t all that different (something her old self would’ve railed against) was an oddly comforting one. For her own sake she’d assume it was the latter option until evidence blatantly, and without a shadow of a doubt, proved otherwise.

Weiss shook her head to clear the cobwebs, and gently pushed open the door to his office.

Roman was seated behind his desk, hat on a stand behind him along with his white coat, stacks of paper and scroll-pads surrounding the space where his current work lay. The lighting was a bit dim for reading, in her opinion, but still bright enough she didn’t feel the need to comment.

Walking up to the chair before his desk, Weiss cleared her throat to draw his attention, “The last job was a bit easy, compared to others. The file you gave me didn’t mention I’d be working with Junior’s men either, and they seemed just as surprised.”

“Well I have to keep them on their toes now, don’t I?” The Master Thief quipped, smirk plain in his tone, without looking up from his work.

She relaxed a little, chuckling at his words, “I gave them a message for him, just a simple ‘everything is well’ without naming anything.”

“I’m sure he’ll appreciate it, maybe even let him keep what few black hairs he has left.”

“He still has a fair amount hanging around.” Weiss grinned, then sat down and relaxed back into the chair, “What’s next on the list? Hopefully a few days out, I’d like to rest here for a couple days-”

“Nothing.” Roman answered, straightening out one stack and setting it aside.

Weiss blinked and parroted, “Nothing?”

Now Roman looked up for the first time since she’d arrived. “Nothing.” He repeated. “Nada, zero, zilch. You’ve gone through the list.” He made a show of brushing off his hands. Shrugged. “We’re square now.” Then he looked down again, pulling over a new folder and began scanning its contents.

 _That can’t be right_... She thought, floored. Yes, she’d been working for him for several months, but it couldn’t be done _now–_ “Well... then hire me on.” She sat ramrod straight, watching him, something about his gaze bothering her. “I’ve an exceptional record, and connections back to Beacon. Certainly you could still use me.”

Finishing off the signature for another document, Roman paused, then carefully set the pen down and looked up again. “Perhaps.” He acknowledged, letting his elbows rest on the desktop, fingers interlocking. “But you’re wasted here.” His tone was playful, teasing, for all that his expression didn’t change. “Go, shoo,” A vague waving motion from one hand. “You have your whole life in front of you. Go build something for yourself.” And with that he returned his attention to his paperwork once more.

That hurt, and Weiss was completely unprepared for it though she managed to keep a straight face. It was no help that she’d finally placed what bothered her: his eyes. They were flat, dull, and despite the teasing lilt in his tone there was no _real_ emotion behind it or in his mask of an expression.

“You can’t honestly mean that.” Fumbling mentally, she scrambled for any concrete reason to convince him to keep her–

Her thoughts all slammed to an abrupt halt as she had to pause and review that disconcerting impulse. It wasn’t that she disagreed, she _liked_ working with Roman, but the odd _vehemence,_ that sense of desperate urgency…

Something to review later. When she had time and attention to spare.

“I was _wasting_ my life before you told me to really look around.” Weiss pressed on. “And I feel I’ve grown a great deal here. At least let me work with you.” Oh how she hated the way her tone turned plaintive towards the end, even as she tried for verbal indignation. “I... don’t really know what else to do, aside from this and Huntressing.” Blue eyes narrowed, she watched him, unable to completely hide the hurt. “I _like_ doing this...”

“No reason you have to stop.” Roman pointed out, still not looking up. “I’m just not taking you as a subordinate.”

Well, that was a small comfort, and though she wanted to say as much aloud she held her tongue in favor of focusing on the other thing that was bothering him. Lips curling, she snapped before she could catch herself: “At least don’t be so apathetic about this. Am I really such a poor friend and coworker you won’t even drop your Dust damned mask around me?”

Roman looked up. “Mask?” He snorted. “Sweetheart, you’re the only one here who’s seen underneath my, uh, ‘mask’, as you call it.”

Reflexive apology dying on her tongue, Weiss froze. Breath caught she met his gaze, searching, before puzzlement welled up as she breathed out again. “You really mean that…”

The man shrugged, gesturing to himself. “Here I am, this is me.” He held her gaze evenly. “Smoke and mirrors.” Weiss winced, long forgotten hurts rippling out from the word and twining with more recent ones as Roman continued. “People see what they want to see.”

“What if I want to see you?” The words were out before she could censure them, leaving her floundering in her seat.

Roman canted his head, curious. “Honestly, I’m surprised you noticed anything at all.” He admitted after a moment.

“I-” she took a breath, calming slightly, and _looked_ at him, “I missed a lot, back then, and it cost me Ruby. I... don’t think I could take losing another friend...”

That made the Master Thief still, almost startled. For a long moment he just stared at her, then he relaxed back in his chair. “You won’t be. Something for something, I’m not adverse to outside contracts.” He frowned slightly, giving her a pointed look. “But you need to do things for yourself, not just because you were told to. You can be _so much more_. Keeping you here would just stunt your growth.” A loose, one handed gesture. “Build something, see what happens.” Dull jade eyes seemed to soften as he smiled. “You might be surprised what comes about.”

“Outside contracts,” she echoed, gaze distant for a moment before refocusing on him, “I... thank you, for believing in me like that. Maybe I will build something for myself. But I’m not leaving you alone.” She leaned back into the chair, then sat forward and leveled her gaze and a shaky smirk on Roman. “It’s your eyes, you know, that make me nervous to leave... almost like looking in a mirror, sometimes,” she gave a short, broken laugh, “We’re horrible at taking care of ourselves, I’ve just realized. I think Junior knows it too, if I remember how he used to watch me and how he spoke of you.”

A faint glint of actual humor. “Always the mother hen, or bear as the case may be.”

“Yeah,” Her own expression softened. “He is.”

“Now that we’ve got all the sappy bonding-over-mutual-friend over with, I do believe you have work to do.” He waved her away again, attention returning to his stack. “Go on, shoo. Gimme a call if you need anything.”

Weiss rolled her eyes, honestly finding some comfort in the snark, “Of course, Roman. I think I’ll take an _actual_ vacation this time. I haven’t been back to my apartment since I started working for you.”

“You do that.”

Pausing at the door as she started to leave, Weiss glanced back, “Roman.”

“Mm?” He glanced up.

“You do the same, alright?” she watched him a moment, letting the worry show (just a little) before she smirked, “I’ll know when I start working again if you haven’t at least planned for a few days away from everything. Don’t make me drag you out of your office.”

The man smirked. “You’re welcome to try, Sweetheart.”

“Maybe I will.” her smirked shifted to a small, honest smile, and she stepped out with a final word, “Expect to hear from me in a week.”

 


	7. Polly and Ideas

An idea was brewing in Weiss’ mind.

Stemming from Roman’s suggestion of her making something _for_ herself and his offhand comment about outside contracts and the further fanned by her own will. Disowned or not, she was still a Schnee. The understanding of _business_ was in her blood. Couple that with her own honest love of being a Huntress (something she’d come to realize during her time under Roman was as much a genuine passion as it was a way of honoring Ruby’s own fervor for it) and her newfound fascination with the brokering of information and resources (again thanks to her exposure to Roman) and she had the skeleton of an aspiration to aim for.

All that was left was for her to actually wrangle all her thoughts and ideas into some semblance of order and begin planning. Thus her feet carried her on autopilot towards her downtown Vale apartment, emotions bracing for the empty rooms even as she began hashing out the rough outlines of notes-

“Sal-u-tations, Weiss!” A cheery, louder-than-strictly-necessary voice sounded.

Leaping what must have been a good meter off the ground, Weiss whipped around the moment she touched down again with a Glyph readily bursting into existence before her, to attack or defend depending on the threat-

Belatedly she finally registered the source of her scare and she dropped her hand, Glyph vanishing with it as she snapped, “ _Penny!”_

The World’s-First-Synthetic-Person-Capable-of-Generating-an-Aura grinned, waving cheerfully. “It is so good to see you!” She chimed without the slightest hint of remorse for startling the other woman. May not have even realized there was a problem, actually… “How have you been?”

The hair was the same, and so was that exuberant grin, though the face it was set in was not quite so round with the false appearance of youth. Like Weiss, Penny had ‘grown’, if in a more artificial and deliberate manner. Subtle enough that it stirred up a whole slew of memories anyway. Memories which Weiss was quick to tamp down.

“I’ve been well, Penny. It’s…good to see you as well.”

Penny cocked her head, staring at Weiss with large, unblinking electric-green eyes. Then she blinked once, her grin broadening if that were even possible. “You look better!”

“Better?” Weiss echoed, blinking a little at the volume. Dust, she’d forgotten just how loud and _cheerful_ the girl was. Or maybe _woman_ was more accurate now, of mechanical origin or not. “It’s been over ten years, Penny. I wouldn’t think ‘better’ would be the right descriptor–”

“You are smiling.” The android interrupted. “You have gained some weight – I had been getting worried about that – and you’re not looking down as much.”

Frozen, taken aback by the rather abrupt list, Weiss took a moment before deciding to focus on the positive…compliments? She offered an uncertain, somewhat lopsided smile. “I _do_ smile on occasion. And what do you mean ‘looking down’? I’m the same as always-” Penny’s prior choice of wording chose that moment to sink in. “Wait. Have you been _spying_ on me?”

“Um…no? - _hic-!”_ Penny slapped a hand over her mouth.

“ _Penny_ …” Weiss was torn between glaring at the snoopy android, and smiling at the unique ‘tic’ Ruby had once mentioned-

“Twelve back-to-back missions inside a month.” The statement was blandly given, and so completely devoid of earlier cheer that Weiss had to blink in stunned amazement. “No trip to Vale in between. Next to no social interactions outside the bare minimum demanded by mission parameters. Reduced food intake, reduced variety, bare minimum needed to keep functioning.” A slow blink. “When you did return to Vale it was rarely more than a week and hardly restful. Such had been your Modus Operandi for the past decade. Ever since…” She trailed off.

“Yes, well…” Her hand drifted down to cup the emblem at her hip. “Sometimes you don’t want to give yourself time to think...”

Another slow blink. “Perhaps, but…” Penny hesitated. “I was…worried, that I would learn that you had not moved fast enough against a Grimm. That you did not.” She fell silent a moment, then smiled again. A smaller gentler version contrasting her earlier grin. “I am glad that is no longer the case.”

Weiss frowned. “I’m not incompetent or suicidal, Penny.” She stated firmly.

“Perhaps not,” Penny ceded. “But I have read up on Depression and it…kills. Slowly. Wearing you down until you can no longer act as you had before, or react.”

“I’m not-” The Huntress cut off her own objection, taking a moment to honestly consider it. Yes, she _had_ been depressed, she realized, badly so. “Not that I am unappreciative of the obvious worry for my well-being, but… _why_ …?”

Penny looked down. “Friend Ruby would not have wanted that, but…” A helpless shrug. “There was not much I could do to help. I am glad that someone else _could_.”

Her heart twinged painfully at the mention of her partner, the tone Penny had used. No, Ruby wouldn’t have wanted her to end up like-

She blinked. “Someone else?”

That got her a somewhat puzzled look. “Yes.” Penny cocked her head slightly. “You were spiraling…and then you were not. After ten consecutive years it was unlikely that you’d manage to do so under your own power, so that suggests outside interference.” A deliberate pause. “And soon after you began taking unsanctioned missions and going off the grid.” The android _stared_ at Weiss, concerned once more. “You… _are_ okay, aren’t you Friend Weiss?”

For a moment, Weiss froze in fear for Roman’s _very_ necessary need for secrecy before the last of Penny’s words sank in and she mentally shook herself free. Offered a small smile. “I’m fine, Penny. Honestly, I am. I was helping people, and it got away from me a bit. A lot of it wasn’t _actual_ missions.”

Penny stared at her intently, expression unreadable. Then she grinned. “Sen-sational! Now we can go to your apartment and debate the latest fashions and talk about cute boys!” Pausing, she proudly held up a mini-briefcase. “I. Brought. _Polish!”_

_Cute boys?_ Really _Penny?_ Weiss thought, feeling a flush spread across her face. _And…that’s an awful lot of polish…_ “Uh, I was actually going to be busy making some plans…”

The android perked up. “Plans? What kind of plans? Can I help?”

“I-” Weiss leaned back, feeling crowded even though Penny hadn’t shifted forward, “Just... future plans...? A possible business, related to Huntressing and information...”

“That. Sounds. _Fascinating_. You must allow me to assist you!”

“I don’t want to take you away from whatever you’re doing.” _Wait, she came armed with_ nail polish _. This was a premeditated meeting._ Which suggested that Penny was set on spending at least a few hours in her company and would require no less than a Kingdom-scale Grimm invasion to be deterred. And even that would only be a temporary reprieve. So, feeling sheepish, Weiss offered a smile. “Well, I suppose it would be good to bounce ideas off of someone else.”

“Splendid! I should have at least twenty-four – well, eighteen now – hours before Mr. Ironwood realizes I’m gone.” With that, she stepped forward and hooked her arm around Weiss’ and marched off in the direction of the latter’s apartment.

“A _sleep-over_ , Penny?” She couldn’t help it, Penny’s exuberance was infectious. “Aren’t we both a touch too old for those?”

“Never!”

“You haven’t changed.” Weiss breathed, the realization dawning suddenly. “I guess it really _isn’t_ just me and my memories.” The realization brought with it a sense of relief, a renewed sense of _lightness_ as she moved to take lead. “Thank you for finding me, too, Penny.”

“You are very welcome!”

 


	8. Sleep and a Rose

It was too much.

Later, Weiss would be able to acknowledge it as such. Oh it hadn’t been any singular event, or even a running trend so much as life itself, the chaos that often strode arm-in-arm with her various missions like an old lover. From the stark reminders of the sorts of malice only mankind possessed, to the bleakness that hung over the frightened civilians of a doomed village, to the never ending onslaught of Grimm. Sometimes small, sometimes devastating, but always an ever present part of existence. It all swam together in her mind, blending with jarring memories in a horrid malaise that threatened to consume her.

Before, she would take mission after mission until she was too tired to think, to remember, and then keep going. Now, however… Now she had reason to do otherwise, _options_ she could seize and a safe haven to shelter in until the worst had past and she thought she could face the world again.

It was hard. So long she’d fought to maintain a ‘stiff upper lip’ that to do otherwise threatened to make her body rebel.

With only slight difficulty, Weiss found her way to the place that routine promised was Roman’s current base-of-operations. There _was_ a pattern to his continuous moves, she’d come to realize while working with him. Granted, it was nothing blatant and one had to be as in tune with regional happenings as the man himself to divine where he’d be the most productive. Even then there _was_ still a fair sized margin for error, but intuition told her she was correct, this time.

The shower was little more than a hazy blur in her recollection, mind lost as it was in a churning tumult of visceral memories and bound to the present by only the faintest of tethers, but she did (belatedly) register the sense of _being clean_ as she navigated a virtual maze of unfamiliar corridors, hair still somewhat damp. Unfamiliar, yet she knew the way nonetheless. As she knew that there _was_ rhyme and reason behind Roman’s actions, chaotic though they may seem. Stability.

Something she needed, now more than anything. With how everything else tore away from her, something that _remained_ was more precious than any common treasure. Priceless.

Fingers danced through the now familiar pattern without her active input, with hardly even her conscious knowledge as she stumbled into the rooms beyond. By the time her eyes started adjusting to the dark she’d passed though the office and had paused in the far doorway. In the dark, she could just make out the motionless form within. Hair tousled, shirtless as he’d been months ago in the tavern, Roman lay curled on his side sound asleep, just as she’d known he’d be.

Toeing off her boots, carelessly casting her blazer aside, Weiss was careful not to disturb the man as she joined him on the bed. Feeling his warmth at her back, she settled, mind finally slowing with his presence to ground her. Thoughts somewhat clear again, she shivered. Relaxed. She did not weep, for there were no more tears to shed, but at the same time the pent up emotions flowed from her in a silent current until, at last, exhaustion claimed her.

**-0-**

When she stirred again it was to find her head cushioned on Roman’s back (the man having rolled in his sleep to lay flat on his stomach at some point) with her arms curled like a shielding wall and her legs folded against his side. Still bleary, Weiss shifted a little, raising her head to look down at her companion. He didn’t seem to have any qualms of being used as an impromptu pillow, something which brought a touch of warmth to her cheeks.

Then, in the poor illumination, she saw the tattoo. Truly _saw_ it, what she’d previously ignored now standing out in clear relief.

A rose, nestled in the bed of thorny brambles dripping blood as they scrawled across the man’s back. Not just any rose but _her_ rose, a colored twin to the emblem Weiss wore at her waist. A replacement, perhaps?

“What were we– what was _she,_ to you?” The murmured words left her before she could rein them in as she visually traced the intricate patterns, always leading back to summer’s last bloom. “What am I?”

There was no response, not that she’d expected there to be. Breathing out slowly, Weiss lay her head down again, ear flush to his skin over the steady beat of his heart. It was comforting, both the sound and warmth. Proof she wasn’t alone. That someone was _there_.

A barely audible sigh left her as she melted to that sound, that warmth.

Beneath her, Roman shifted, and that was her only warning before he abruptly _bucked_ , strong hands seizing her even before the yelp could finish leaving her lungs. Dazed, she almost didn’t register the way she was drawn flush to his bare chest.

“Now now, none of that.” The sleepy murmur tickled the crown of her head, then Roman’s grip eased. Still firm, but she could pull away if she wanted to.

She found she rather didn’t. Even with the steady burn in her cheeks Weiss couldn’t bring herself to draw back. Instead, she only found herself relaxing further, settling atop his now supine body and continuing to listen as his breath evened out in sleep once more. Which was something of a shame, she’d wanted to ask him about the tattoo.

Perhaps later, when she was in a better state of mind.

Still…

How odd was it, she wondered, how quickly she felt at ease in his presence. How quickly even her hardened instincts and ingrained reflexes classified the Master Thief as _non-threatening_. More than that, a source of comfort. One she’d seek out even when half out of her mind.

She reasoned it was the continued sense of familiarity. He was still Roman, dependable snark and all. A Ruffian and a scoundrel, but not a monster. Non-malicious, if perhaps a bit predatory at times, and maybe – just maybe – that was the selling point for her. Certainly he worked in less than reputable circles than she, but he wasn’t… He wasn’t like Cinder. Or the former White Fang leadership. Roman simply did what his ‘job’ called him to do, and he didn’t go out of his way to hurt anyone but those who likely deserved it.

He was safe. He was _alive._ Like her, he’d left some of his past behind to simply go on and do what he did best.

It was, Weiss decided, enough common ground for now.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yes, yet another double post.   
> I think there are two more short chapters, and then we hit a few that have some real meat to them.


	9. Value of Entertainment

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for the late Upload. I was sick over the weekend and I'm only just remembering I missed it. Enjoy! [this chapter was written completely by my co-author Zephyrus Genesis]

He hadn’t had this much fun in _years_.

Sure, he relished what he did, the thrill of enacting a carefully crafted plot, the rush of adrenaline as he matched his wits with whatever ‘opponent’ he happened to face... Roman wouldn’t still be in this line of work if he didn’t love it. All the same, after working the scene for the vast majority of his life, he couldn’t deny that being a master-of-his-craft had its downfalls.

His little side project with the Ice Queen, though? That was something _new_. Something with an end he couldn’t predict. To say nothing of the sheer entertainment-value that came with watching her initial awkward stumbling slowly smooth out to an elegant gait. A cygnet growing into a proud swan. Fowl temper and all. Heh. Roman had quite a few recordings of her chewing out some of his less-than-bright subordinates.

He pulled them out whenever he needed a good laugh but wasn’t quite motivated enough to cause his own mischief.

But more important than the entertainment was the thrumming sense of _satisfaction_ he felt whenever he watched her. When he could all but count each improvement she made, with a little subtle, and not-so-subtle at times, guidance from yours truly.

Best of all she’d been utterly oblivious to it! Oh, sure, she knew that some of the missions he’d selected had more than one angle, but in her mind that only seemed to apply to his business. Her naivety was rather endearing, actually. Sometimes he almost wanted to coo at her, but he valued his person too much and while she herself had never shown any indication, Junior _had_ told him about her more fiery teammate.

So focused on being professional in their dealings and paying off her debt – which he had to give her props for, honestly, it was so hard to find someone with proper _professionalism_ these days – she failed to see how each mission selected for her was tailored to improve her own state.

Search and Destroy for stress relief, an outlet for the various pent up emotions she nursed; armed with more than a few of the more _exotic_ Dust rounds he provided for her to ‘play’ with, though he simply told her they were tailored for the specific Grimm types she was dealing with.

Escort missions to expand her own budding contact network.

Scattered amongst those were more miscellaneous missions, ones he’d more-often-than-not selected randomly from public mission boards, and that she was obviously overqualified for but were the perfect opportunities to give her a vacations-that-didn’t-look-like-vacation and socialize her further and remind her of the world outside her own pain.

Though Roman would own up that the odd ‘Rescue the Idiot’ missions he’d sometimes tasked her with – when one of his underlings bit off more than they could chew or, more likely, had a sudden deficiency in Common Sense – were purely for his own amusement. They tended to ruffle her feathers something fierce and thus were always a treat to watch. Sometimes he’d even managed to shatter her composure entirely when detailing, with a completely straight face, the latest Monument of Stupidity.

It had been very… _difficult_ to let her go. He was a greedy man at heart and a thief – a _Master_ Thief – to a core and oh how he’d wished to steal her away for his own. Horde her skills and competency for himself and never let go… But…

But that would have been counterproductive.

The whole reason he’d maintained contact was to see just how far she could go with the right motivation. What she could become. While under his wing she had finally picked herself up from the pit she had fallen into, to have kept her afterwards would have resulted in a- a _dependency_ on him. Admittedly that would have stoked his ego like nothing else, he _relished_ having power over others in some form or another. But he’d set things in motions with a clear purpose in mind and he _would_ see it through.

He was only marginally- no, that was a lie, he wasn’t surprised at all that she’d decided to draw people around herself for a greater purpose (Perhaps she’d let him assist in naming it?) rather than further honing her skills as an independent Huntress. Such was in her blood, after all.

It helped that there were also developments beneficial enough to soothe his bruised Thief’s Nature. Her surprising-yet-still-not-entirely-unexpected attachment towards him, for example. Not only did he still have some access to her skills, he also had a regular source of intelligent conversation. She often found excuses – or gave none at all – to seek him out for face-to-face interactions. Verbal and physical.

Waking up with her in his bed had been a surprise, albeit a pleasant one. She was surprisingly warm for an Ice Queen.

Hm…

In regards to her business, he wouldn’t accept the use of the word ‘ _Company’_ in the name, but ‘ _Incorporated’_ had a nice ring to it.

_Mine!_

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I recently commissioned an artist on Tumblr for a "Weiss and Roman, smiling and content standing beside each other" piece, and it turned out wonderful!   
> ( https://levilagann.tumblr.com/post/184869938035/weiss-x-roman-for-secretwriterstudentjaune-one ) if that link doesn't work, search for Levilagann and on their page search for secretwriterstudentjaune. It's a monochrome piece with a bit of color they chose to add during final touches.


	10. Light Shy

It was nothing special, or even something worth mentioning. Just a meeting, like any other that Weiss occasionally bore witness to, of some of Roman’s subordinates (and Roman himself) coordinating with the more influential or skilled locals.

Not for any heist or such mischief, just an operation dedicated to smoothing the flow of development in the area: planning new buildings, arranging new trade routes and partners and so on. Even just redistributing manpower so everything got the attention it required. Weiss would admit that she was just as invested in a positive turnout as Roman was and it wasn’t all that often she was invited to sit in on these little events.

Though just being invested did not make the whole process any less dull. Mostly it consisted of the others sharing information and debating the best way to go about things while she and Roman observed. Really, they didn’t have much to offer unless it involved cause-and-effect on a regional scale, and most of what was being done was strictly local.

At least until Roman eased it into the wider scheme that was his network.

However, there was one thing, aside from the meeting proper, which stood out to Weiss and nagged at her attention for the entire duration. Which had been annoying and a test of her composure.

Any indoors meeting between Humans and Faunus – and how pleased it left her, seeing both races interacting not only peacefully but _productively_ – would inevitably bring up the issue of lighting. One fellow had complained and another, an oblivious Human, had helpfully flipped a switch to up the light and prompting a myriad of winces, at least one affronted hiss in the process.

A number of nasty looks were then shot at the hapless perpetrator. Only understandable as Faunus were, after all, specially adapted to navigate dark terrain, thus it was only natural such an abrupt change would border on painful where the collective humans would hardly blink.

Only that was an elementary deduction and nothing special in and of itself. No, what had caught Weiss’ attention was that _Roman_ had flinched as well. Not as much, true, but a definite wince and a deliberate tilt of his head to cast his eyes deeper into the shadow of brim and bangs, the former of which he’d occasionally take off when in a dim room. As their current setting had originally been.

Not for the first time, she realized. Roman _always_ kept his eyes shadowed, sans the rarest of occasions that she was aware of, and was most active during darker hours. When he wasn’t he either kept his hat on or viewed the world through a fox-sly squint. Something she hadn’t paid much mind to. Until now.

It was an honest trial to sit through the rest of the meeting. Her curiosity aroused she just itched for the chance to _ask_ -

 _Ack_.

Meeting dismissed and she only just caught a fleeting glimpse of white coat tails vanishing out the door.

A touch of fancy footwork, and maybe the surreptitious use of a Glyph or two, pushed Weiss to the head of the rush and into more open space. Down the hallway, sharp turn, another hallway…

“Roman?” She called.

“Mm?” Still well ahead of her, the man paused and glanced back. “What can I do ya for, Sweetheart?”

Finally catching up, Weiss suddenly came up short and without the proper phrasing to ask tactfully– wait, what was she thinking? This was _Roman_ she was thinking about! As Yang would have said: ‘ _Screw tact_.’

“Are you…part Faunus?” She ventured, somewhat tentatively. “You flinched when the lights came on, but only the Faunus reacted to it…” Trailing off, she blinked up at him.

A shameless ‘Ruby Tactic’, yes, but one that was tried and true and simply could not be denied as effective. Or useful. Perfect for portraying innocence and honest curiosity, which Weiss was nothing but. Roman’s pedigree, or lack thereof, was hardly a concern of hers. She simply _wanted to know_.

A dark brow quirked up beneath the low brim, amused. “You realize that everyone has _some_ Faunus blood, right.”

That got a blink. No, actually, she hadn’t realized that, though in hindsight she supposed it made sense considering, well, _people_. Mixed couples were even something of a rising trend as of late-

A startled squawk almost escaped Weiss’ lips as gloved knuckles rubbed, albeit gently, down on her scalp and conjuring up the dread static-cling-from-hell with a vengeance.

Roman chuckled as he withdrew his hand. “Little Mink.” He murmured fondly. Then he spun away, Melodic Cudgel tucked under his opposite arm as he sauntered further down the hallway, a louder laugh trailing in his wake.

Cheeks warming, Weiss felt the tingle of static through her fingers as she tried to wrest her hair back into proper order, only to give up a moment later due to the strength of the charge. Annoyed and somewhat flustered, she stared after him. “Annoying scoundrel.” But a smile was tugging on her lips as she noted his more sedate pace and moved to follow.

He still hadn’t answered her question.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Next Monday (2019-5-20) expect a single, though long, chapter. We'll finally start to take a real bite into the relationship.


	11. Misery Loves Company

The stone block, cut smooth beneath a master’s hammer, soaked in the afternoon sun in somber silence.

“I’m sorry I haven’t been by in person the past few years, Ruru.” Weiss murmured, visually tracing the carved lettering spelling out _Ruby Rose_. Beneath it were a set of dates. And her partner’s crest, the colorless stone making it a match to that of her mother’s, etched out in the monument beside it. All that differed were the details.

“I’m doing well, I promise.” She went on. “I met an old… _acquaintance_ of ours, a while back.” Dry eyes fixed on the relief of familiar petals, her hand traced the emblem at her waist. “You’d probably laugh. He’s actually calmed a great deal, I actually worked under him for several months. We’re still in contact, though.” A pause. “Actually, to the first bit I should say it’s more like he’s left behind a few bad habits. Just a few, though.”

A familiar _chirp_ reached her ears and Weiss elected to ignore it.

“You’ll be pleased to know that I’m actually making something of myself these days.” A small smile touched her lips. She could allow it, here. “An organization, dedicated to the delivery of information and supplies to Huntsmen in the field…though I should stress that that’s not _all_ it is.”

Another chirp sounded, which she _also_ ignored no matter how that specifically chosen tone tried to draw her attention to its sender.

“I like to think you’d at least be proud of that, despite…everything else.” A short laugh suddenly escaped her. “I know, you’d be all for it. Right at the front, seeing things through. People would flock from all around to help… But that’s enough about my work, I have…some news, at least, about the others. “Blake’s doing well, from what I hear. Sun’s with her, so I know she’s not exactly lonely w- without Yang.” Kneeling, she reached out to brush smooth marble. “She doesn’t really answer my messages, but I don’t mind. We…we both wish you two were still here.”

The Scroll in her hand thrummed obnoxiously despite being Silenced and she sighed quietly before rising. “Anyway, I’d best check this. I’ll be back next year, Ruby. I won’t stop myself, or make specific plans, but we both know you can’t control everything.” Shoulders set, she turned away to check her messages.

_ From: RBT  
Heeeelloooooo~ _

A snort of laughter escaped before she could stop it.

_ From: RBT  
Heeeey, don’t ignooooore me ); _

It brought to mind the image of a bored cat swatting obnoxiously at a person’s feet as they walked, demanding attention. Suddenly Weiss found herself muffling a torrent of giggles behind an upraised hand.

_ From: RBT  
Got a ride for you at the coordinates listed below. _

Come to think of it, it _had_ been a few weeks since she’d last seen Roman. Longer than she usually went between communications, maybe he was worried Though the thought of him messaging her with what looked like a _mission summons_ , disarming messages preceding that or no, on _this_ day of _all_ days… Well, a part of her felt she should be indignant at the interruption, but really she wasn’t too bothered.

Weiss had said her piece, and a distraction would be nice.

With an almost automatic message sent back as acknowledgement, she made towards the coordinates listed below the third text. It wasn’t far, but just far enough that the airship’s – and she would be very surprised if it _wasn’t_ an airship – descent wouldn’t disturb the grave site.

She was correct. An auspiciously new bullhead was waiting for her when she arrived. New, but she’d encountered the pilot and copilot duo before, working for Roman directly. The pilot’s gold – _“It’s_ orange _damnit!” –_ accents were rather distinct. If not that, then the jarring takeoff – and shuddering landing – were unmistakable identifiers.

Afterwards the copilot, a polite enough fellow for all that he seemed more than a little awkward in her presence for some reason, escorted her through the well-off town they had come to. Weiss found she both was and wasn’t surprised when their destination turned out to be the upper story of a condominium. Despite it being a perfectly understandable thing, the idea of Roman possessing an actual _residential_ address struck her as odd nonetheless.

Granted, the specific location of the town home to said residence was what really bemused her.

After bidding the copilot a farewell, Weiss knocked once on the door in front of her before checking the knob. As she’d somewhat expected, it turned easily and she was able to slip inside without resistance. The interior of the condo was sparse and was either cleaned regularly or only recently set up. Stepping into the living area, her attention was immediately drawn to Roman. Her friend was lounging in a plush chair opposite a small sofa and staring off into space. He was shirtless, a wine glass in one hand with a matching glass and corresponding bottle resting on a burnished coffee table.

When he didn’t respond to her entry Weiss opted to clear her throat. That visible jade eye blinked once, sliding back into focus as Roman glanced at her with an oddly sly look on his face. He didn’t speak, but made an inviting gesture first towards the coffee table’s contents, and then the sofa.

Arching a brow at him, Weiss offered a somewhat lopsided smile in return as she moved to accept the invitation, though opted for the empty chair beside him in lieu of the sofa. “How did you know I’d need some company?” She asked, reaching for the second glass and bottle beside it.

“What, I can’t randomly invite a business partner over for a friendly drink?”

“Of course you can.” She took a delicate sip, found the offered wine to be more than acceptable, and set the bottle back down. “I wasn’t accusing you of anything.”

Roman hummed at that, a lazy smile on his face. Then he finished the contents of his glass in one swig and straightened up long enough to pour another shot, the action had the light catching off the inked pattern spiraling along his shoulder and back. Most of which were hidden once more as he settled back again. Weiss found her eyes tracing the just visible spiral of thorns curling around his collar.

“I…I’ve been meaning to ask…” Blinking, Weiss took a full drink of ‘liquid courage’. “Why-” She stopped, then tried again. “What is the tattoo for?”

He glanced down at the bloodied thorns and sharp edges etched across pale skin. Shrugged. “Fruit of a random whim.”

“…Was it?”

A pause. “I may or may not have been drunk at the time.”

He said it so seriously that Weiss couldn’t _not_ chuckle. “Of course,” She smiled. “because all tattoo stories begin with ‘ _I was drunk’_ , don’t they?”

Knocking back a second glass-full of wine, Roman shot her a winning, butter-wouldn’t-melt smile and offered a mock salute. “Only the best ones.” He refilled the glass.

“Roman…” Refilling her own glass once more, Weiss noted that the bottle was nearing on empty. Obviously he’d been at this for some time already. “Why…why a Rose?” And even in her own ears she could hear the capital, leaving no doubt as to _which_ rose. As if there could be any but that one specific bloom. Her hand brushed worn silver as she awaited a response.

“Why not?” Her friend hummed softly, not looking at her as he swished his glass absently.

“Don’t dodge.” She didn’t mean to say it so sharply, and wondered if he heard the subtle tremor in the demand-cum-request as she tacked on: “…please.”

He was frowning now, a faint furrowing of his brows, the slight narrowing of his visible eye, but otherwise almost unperceivable. “Only thing I _could_ do.” He admitted at last, albeit reluctantly.

The emblem’s edges bit into her skin as Weiss’ grip tightened. Deliberately loosened as she knocked back the contents of her glass. Coughed softly. Too much, too fast, and yet not enough. She reached for the bottle and emptied the last of it into her glass.

“Might want to pace yourself, Sweetheart.” Roman cautioned, a lilt of amusement in his tone as he watched her.

“She’d approve, I think…” Brushing off the warning, Weiss offered a shaky smile. “She’d almost convinced Yang to let her go get one. Before…”

“Did she now?”

“Yeah…” A sigh and they lapsed into silence as she sipped at her glass. Of course it was empty in moments and she shot the too-small glass a glare before sending Roman an inquiring glance.

The man was watching her now with mild fascination. “You realize that’s aged Sherry, right?”

Weiss frowned. “I don’t really care, Roman. But yes, I think I recognize the vintage, though it’s been years since I’ve had any.” Now her glare rounded on the guiltily empty bottle on the table. “Surely a man of your taste has others stashed away in this penthouse.” A pause. “Which reminds me, why even have one so close to Vale Proper?”

“What can I say? I like to live dangerously.” With a feline’s grace, Roman stood, absently swishing his still half-full glass as he meandered out of sight. To the kitchen, Weiss assumed. He was gone for several moments.

Suddenly restless, Weiss left her seat and was settling into the sofa when the resounding _pop_ heralded Roman’s return. She visibly perked up at the sight of the previously unopened wine bottle in his offhand.

“And of course I do.” Roman continued. “I just try not to burn through it all in one sitting.”

Ignoring that, she beckoned him over. “I make no promises.” She held out her glass expectantly, to which he made an exaggerated roll of his eyes but obliged before setting the bottle down and flopping back in his seat across from her.

“I’m glad you approve of my tastes.” He smirked, watching her down the glass with obvious zeal.

“Well you _are_ a Master Thief. That speaks to high standards, I think.”

He flashed her a grin. “Always a pleasure to have one’s virtues appreciated.”

“A virtue?” She snorted, pouring another glass and exercising the control to actually nurse it along this time. “Is that what it’s called now?”

“Among other things.”

Humming in response, Weiss let her gaze slide out of focus (though remain in his general direction) as she sipped slowly at the wine, savoring the taste and accompanying burn. Her friend finished off his own glass and deliberately broke eye contact as he leant forward to refill it. Not that she really noticed. Or cared.

_This is…pleasant._

The warmth spreading with the quantity she drank, the good company... Weiss found herself glad, grateful even, of whatever mysterious reason (or impulse) that had compelled Roman to call her to him. Here, just a quiet moment between friends. Between people that cared (at least a little) for each other. It was something she had missed. Something she did not enjoy often enough.

“What were we to you?”

The question seemed to surprise him and he carefully lowered his glass. “You…” Roman trailed off, shaking his head. “I can’t honestly say.”

“Unsure? Or are you respecting my ‘delicate sensibilities’ again?”

He snorted. “The former.” A slight shrug as he downed his glass and refilled it once more. “You kids…I don’t know, just kept drawing my attention.”

“Ozpin always did say we had a talent for finding trouble.” Finishing her glass, Weiss refilled it and sipped at it as she watched a grin split the thief’s face.

“I’m flattered.” Somehow, he managed a gentlemanly bow despite his seated position and the full glass gripped in his hand.

She had to chuckle at that. “It did seem to focus on you, didn’t it?”

“I swear Red was part homing pigeon, it was…kind of creepy, actually. Could almost set my watch by her. Or the rest of your merry little band, for that matter.”

“Set your watch? She was hardly the most punctual.” Laughing now, Weiss downed another shot of wine. “But it was always _just_ in time, from our perspective.”

“Exactly!” A flourished wave of a finger. “Just pick the least convenient time for her to, uh, _drop in_ and there she was. Or Kitty-cat.” Roman frowned a bit, eyeing Weiss as she drained a yet another shot. “Seriously though, you should pace yourself.”

“You’re sweet, Roman, but I’ll be fine.”

“Uh-huh, sure. Just keep thinking that.”

Weiss frowned. “I’m. _Fine._ ” She stressed. “If it’s an issue, just take it from me.”

Both Roman’s brows climbed at that. “Yes, clearly you’re the expert of self-diagnosis here.” Somehow he managed to pull off an odd cross between a long drawl and an utterly deadpan tone. “The shining example all should turn to.”

Snorting, Weiss glared into her glass but didn’t’ dignify that with a response. A silence lapsed between them as they simply continued drinking until the bottle was as empty as the first. When Roman made no move to retrieve another (instead opting to stare blankly into a far corner) Weiss felt the fuzzy-edged weight of her attention settling on him. She couldn’t quite pin down the reason – between the alcohol, the myriad of emotions now drifting unmoored inside her, and the warm contentment she’d come to expect when near him – but she found herself standing only after the fact, mind lagging seconds behind as her body moved of its own accord.

Not that she would have checked herself even if she had been able.

Seated as he was, Weiss was pleased to find that she now had a slight height advantage. And a slight disadvantage as the case may be. So she bent forward at the waist and waited for him to notice, which he did only after several seconds had passed, blinking alcohol-glazed eyes back into focus as he turned towards her. She moved before he could do more than open his mouth, cutting off the imminent question as her lips found his. Warm. Gentle. She held that contact a moment – or maybe several, she honestly wasn’t sure – with closed eyes before pulling back-

A hand kept her in place, cupping the back of her head with equal gentleness.

Though surprised, Weiss didn’t fight it. Instead, she hummed softly and leaned back to kiss him again. Roman let out a responding hum of his own – a deep rumble more like a purr than anything else – as he relaxed and yielded and let her deepen the kiss as she wished. So she did.

He tasted like the wine. Sweet and citrus and…Roman. Not that she had anyone with whom to compare the kiss. That didn’t matter, though, as she rested her hands atop his shoulders for balance as she leaned against him. She liked this. No bestial rush crushing reason, no heavy urges stealing away sense, nothing at all like what was described in the books that were Blake’s guilty pleasure and had, at one point, been almost one for Weiss.

It was just a kiss. A kiss with someone she cared for. Someone she trusted, with her life (and how odd that felt, it had been years since she’d last trusted so unreservedly) and with whom there was no pressure for _more_.

Another rumbling hum – one she felt down to her bones – sounded as Roman shifted beneath her. His free arm came up, looping behind her knees as he stood up and hugging her to his bare chest in the process. Only distantly startled by the change, Weiss hummed back as her arms wrapped around his shoulders. Then, with smooth strides belying the quantity of alcohol he’d undoubtedly consumed, Roman carried her from the living area down a short, dimly lit hallway.

She wished to stay like this. Held, warm and safe, kissed in return… A moment of utter contentment in a life that seemed to revel in kicking her down. At least at her high points. All good things came to an end. She didn’t want this to end.

Not that she was adverse to other feelings, she _was_ attracted to Roman. Relaxed by alcohol and easy company, she could admit that. He was an attractive man. A touch rugged, perhaps, but such was the life he lead. His features were sharp, his movements ever confident and the ever-youthful look to him (despite his being well into his middle age years by now) were always an eye catcher. Just as he undoubtedly intended.

But it was more than that. More than just aesthetic appeal, though that was undoubtedly a plus, was his personality. A sharp wit, sharper (most of the times) than hers but which she couldn’t mind. The easy banter shared between them was something she cherished. The underlying challenge to surprise him, a difficult task on the best of days but the rare occasions where she succeeded were ones she prized. His bearing, an air of professionalism and honor which was backed up by his own actions, was something she could (and did) respect despite his profession of choice. It was something that made working with him surprisingly easy…

His bedroom was darker still than the hallway they had left, and just as sparsely furnished as the rest of his space. The bed he lay her on was large and comfortable, firm without being hard and soft without being smothering. Weiss couldn’t help but relax bonelessly into it. Above her, Roman straightened again and a moment later Weiss felt solid warmth fall over her.

Blinking under the blanket, she reached up to uncover her face and caught Roman’s smirk right before he proceeded to, quite literally, tuck her in. In seconds she was almost completely cocooned and already slumber was creeping as her eyes grew heavy with the warmth and comfort and security and copious amounts of alcohol in her system.

Through half-lowered lids, she saw him begin to draw away. A spike of inexplicable fear jerked her upright, arm snapping out to catch his elbow.

“ _Stay.”_ At his blink Weiss winced at her own tone, mildly embarrassed. She continued, taking care to lower and soften her voice. “Just…just until I’m asleep. Nothing more. I just…I don’t want to be alone. Not today.” A part of her, a cold and bitter part she had long tried to bury, fumed at her display of weakness but she was long passed caring. For too long she’d been alone. No team, no friends, for over a decade.

Now he was here. He cared. He knew. Knew of her nightmares and loss and, maybe…maybe even shared them with her, at least somewhat.

With a slight cant to his head, Roman knelt beside the bed with an oddly gentle expression on his face. “Sweet dreams, princess.” He murmured, and then leaned forward to, not kiss her, but to gently nuzzle the side of her face, thrumming softly like a great, affectionate cat. Then he pulled away, one hand coming to rest atop her head as he settled against the bed frame at her side.

Humming, Weiss’ fingers drifted up to catch his wrist as his fingers combed through her hair. “Thank you, Roman.” She breathed, eyes drifting shut. “Don’t leave like then, m’kay? ‘least say ‘goodbye’, or something…”

And with that, soft darkness drew her under.

**-0-**

After the warmth wrapping around her, the first thing that registered was the headache. A familiar dull throbbing- Oh, charming. A _hangover_. Just what she needed, after yesterday…

Memories unfurled sedately. The grave stones, her Scroll chiming repeatedly, and then going through what had to been a bottle and a half of aged sherry (obviously she’d taken leave of her senses) and the sense of warmth that had welled up within her-

Jerking upright, and regretting it immediately, Weiss cradled her aching head in both hands as a moan of pain and mortification left her.

“Oh…” More warmth, through her cheeks this time as she remembered the kiss, the proximity, strong arms around her and feeling the beat of his heart through the fabric of her shirt.

He truly was a gentleman. More so than most she’d encountered. Until her bold advance he hadn’t touched her, maintaining a constant, polite distance and even then he’d only responded (granted, after a certainly pleasant kiss) by taking her to bed.

Alone.

Weiss felt her cheeks flush once more, the mix of respect at his self control and disappointment that that was _all_ that had transpired further fanning her mortification. For Dust’s sake, she was in her _thirties_! She was much too old for this sort of frivolous nonsense.

She would blame Penny for putting those errant thoughts in her head. She and he had both been drunk, any dalliance stemming from that state of weakened inhibitions (gratifying though such may have been) only ran the risk of damaging their working relationship. Roman had done the proper thing, the _honorable_ thing in not capitalizing on her unplanned forwardness. Yet he’d remained when she’d asked-

Blinking, Weiss’ gaze snapped to the edge of the bed. Empty, but there was a bottled water on the nightstand she was fairly certain had not been there earlier.

Feeling suddenly grateful, she took the bottle and began to drink from it. Slowly. No need to upset her empty stomach. She wasn’t a strong drinker to begin with and the sherry had, perhaps, been a bit much. Really, she should know better.

But…even addled by the alcohol (or perhaps _because_ of) her heart-of-hearts had responded true. She _did_ trust Roman, enough to relax her guard around him and let him see her at her weakest, and she both respected and cared for him a great deal.

 _Be honest, Weiss._ Her sensibility scolded. _You’re long past lying to yourself, aren’t you?_ With a soft sigh she set the now empty bottle back down.

“Do I…” She couldn’t say it. Not aloud. It might just break if she did, but she felt it all the same: _Do I_ love _him?_ It felt so alien, so fragile and new, so…so precious. Just thinking it warmed her, the quiet not-quite-admittance bringing a smile to her lips.

Yes, she did.

Not more than she had Ruby. Such was impossible, of that she was certain. But this didn’t feel _lesser_ than that love, only different. Ruby had been her first real friend, a confidant and loyal partner, someone who encouraged her to grow and see all that lay around her with fresh eyes. But Roman…she was attracted to him, yes. She’d as much as admitted it to herself last night that he was an undeniably attractive man, but he was also a friend. As good as Ruby had been, if not technically ‘good’ per-say– actually, the term ‘bad influence’ was more likely to come to mind.

Roman _cared_ , even when he didn’t have to. He could have easily left her alone at that tavern, or ignored her plea for aid at that hapless village, or kept her on as a lackey– which she could see, now, _would_ have stunted her development _horrifically_. Doing so would have benefited Roman greatly, both personally and in his organization as a whole. Only he hadn’t. He’d offered advice instead, had helped her, encouraged her to build something to last. Something she could dedicate her life and skills too above even her career as a Huntress. To figure out what she wanted and _seize_ it.

And Weiss wanted… _him._

Practiced ease let her brush away the phantoms of Yang’s teasing voice which stirred in response to the admission. Really, it wasn’t so crass as it seemed. This was…deeper, more real. No want as in lust, to feel their bodies come together in fervent passion, but simply knowing the other was near. Knowing that, when she woke, he’d still be there. By her side.

Trust. Companionship. She knew them, if abstractly these days; had it, somewhat distantly, with her friends and allies. Only she didn’t want that distance. She didn’t want that separation.

_Does he feel the same?_

The question made her stomach churn unpleasantly as she stood. _That he reciprocated the kiss certainly implies so, but…_ This was one thing she did not wish to make assumptions in, strong implications or no. All too often, doing so came back to bite her.

Moving into the hallway hadn’t bothered her, but stepping into the much lighter living area had actually _stung_. She flinched back, blinking owlishly until the discomfort dimmed back into a dull throb behind her eyes. Unpleasant, but otherwise manageable. Then she stepped out again.

Weiss found him sprawled out on the sofa, dead to the world and with a hint-of-a-snore audible even from their current distance, and she grinned. Seeing as he’d drunk significantly more than she had, it was only naturally he’d suffer worse.

Perhaps some fresh coffee was in order.

Navigating about the unfamiliar kitchen was something of a chore, and she took extra care to avoid making any more noise than was absolutely necessary. Hangover induced sound-sensitivity was nothing to scoff at. Still – after pinpointing the grounds, filters, and assorted glasses – Weiss caught herself humming as she went through the motions of making a fresh brew. It was, she realized, rather domestic and the thought warmed her unexpectedly and only encouraged a more jovial, if still mild, tune from her lips.

Even if Roman didn’t quite love her as she thought she may him, she could be content with this. Dear friends enjoying each other’s company.

Once set up, she left the pot to its work and opted to return to the living area and claim one of the plush chairs as she waited. Roman had not moved still lax in sleep, lips parted slightly and his ginger hair mussed.

It was, perhaps, the first time she’d truly seen his whole face– had he always had that pale streak running across his lips? That, the tattoo, and scars from Neo’s epee were far from the only marks littering his body but were faded with age and only just visible on his pale skin. Here a stripe from a blade, there a puckered kiss of a bullet, and a great deal of others. They told stories she was not privy to, ones she had not asked about.

The past was just that. Roman (and Ruby as well) had encouraged her to look forward.

She was drawn from her reverie an undetermined amount of time later by a liquid gurgle and she stood. A few moments later she was holding two steaming mugs, which she set on the low table as she turned her attention back to her sleeping friend.

“Roman.” Weiss murmured gently. “I’ve made some coffee.”

Not so much as a twitch of response.

She reached out, though not without a suitable amount of caution as memories of her own poor awakenings came to the fore. The odds of Roman having a similar reflex, if not one more intense than her own, were incredibly likely considering his own experiences. _Post-Traumatic Stress_ , a term she had looked into after Penny’s rather blunt diagnosis of her own Depression. The symptoms possibly matched, and came with a plethora of risks all their own.

Still, she did not let that deter her. “Roman.” Fingers brushing lightly across his face, from cheek to ear, Weiss leaned closer. “Roman, come on you scoundrel.” And this time he did respond, brows furrowing somewhat at the touch. Then, sluggishly, he rolled to face the back of the sofa and stilled again.

“Roman?” Frowning, Weiss lay her hand on his cheek.

The man slept on.

“Roman…please. Just sit up.” Saddened, she sighed and thought she recognized his lethargy for what it was. Heavens knew she had her own bad days, just as she knew that he had his. She’s just never witnessed one. All the same, she couldn’t in good conscience simply leave him. “Do that for me?” She tried again. “One thing at a time.”

He stirred again, shifting to glance over his shoulder so that a jade eye was only just visible.

Weiss found that, at that moment, she hated his eyes, though she kept only a gentle, encouraging smile on her face. She hated how hollow and empty they looked, how they made him look dead when she _knew_ he wasn’t. One simply _could not_ put on such a convincing, consistent act without there being some hint of truth to it. Except…at the same time…she remained uncertain as to which was _really_ him: That sharp smirk promising mischief, or this blank-eyed stare telling of an utter numbness to the world around him.

Whatever the case, Dust damn her if she didn’t at least try to bring him back to _himself_. She would not leave him trapped in the mire of old heart wounds, just as he had not allowed her to remain so.

For a long moment, Roman simply stared at her in incomprehension, before he slowly forced himself up. Not a sound escaped him, but it looked almost painful nonetheless. And then he sat, hunched on the sofa, only just supported by the arms now folded across bent knees as his head bowed such that his entire face was in shadow.

“Thank you.” Her smile softened, showing that she meant it as she moved to sit beside him. Close enough that their sides touched as she held out a mug. “Here, drink a little.”

That ginger head tilted slightly, obviously staring at the still-steaming beverage. Then, slowly, he reached out to grasp it in both hands, drawing it back to nurse at leisure.

Seeing him like this, so lethargic and lifeless, chilled her more than she cared to admit, even to herself. But the contact, her carefully bracing his side as she sipped at her own mug, was comforting. He was still alive, just a little…lost. As she sometimes was. The only difference was that she, and he as well, often suffered alone. This time, they were together. And perhaps that was a rather prideful thought; that she could heal him, solve his problems, by virtue of her mere presence.

It was a very Ruby thought, actually.

Before long, she carefully took his mug from unresisting fingers, setting it with hers on the tabletop. “Would you like more, Ro?”

He didn’t respond, slouching until his forehead nearly touched his knees.

“We’ll be alright, Roman.” Her fingers carded through ginger strands. “You’re a better man than you boast.” Then, suddenly wishing to kick herself for lapse of proper etiquette, she collected both mugs and returned to the kitchen to clean up her mess. Not that there was much needing cleaned.

As she was drying the last bit of damp ceramic a muffled _thump_ drew her attention so abruptly she almost fumbled the dish before hastily setting it down and hurrying deeper into the penthouse.

Roman was not on the sofa.

Weiss froze, fears of him simply leaving without a word wrestled with the very real possibility of an enemy having found him-

The soft rustle reached her ears, fabric dragging across plaster. Gaze snapping around to the dim hallway, Weiss felt her tension ease at the sight of Roman leaning heavily against one wall.

“ _Roman_.” Tone exasperated, she moved to brace his other side, pulling his arm across her shoulders. He leaned against her, accepting the support, but still didn’t make a sound as she led him back to the bedroom she had left only a short time before. “Here, just lie down a while. I’m not going anywhere.”

Shins bumping the edge of the mattress, Roman straightened to his full height-

\- flopped face down atop the comforter. Unmoving.

Amusement tugged at the corners of Weiss’ annoyed frown as she stared at him. Again, she was struck at the surrealism of the situation, the sense of unease at seeing him like this. Always, he’d have some snarky quip or subtle advice woven into a witty comeback. Seeing him like this? So…so _limp_ , just wasn’t right. But it would be rather hypocritical of her to deny the reality of it. On her own Bad Days she was little better.

Shaking her head, she moved to drape a blanket over him. But only up to his waist. He never really seemed to use any sort of covering, that she’d noticed, but it didn’t seem right to leave him without, either.

Weiss leaned over him, pressing a gentle kiss to the back of his head before stepping away.

“If you need me, Ro, please don’t hesitate to call.”

She left the room.

Her epiphany could wait.

**-0-**

Aside from the ongoing case of low level nerves, stemming from Roman’s disturbing behavior, Weiss’ day had been otherwise bland. She’d dealt with the dishes, debated the ethics of helping herself to a small meal – or at the very least a snack – before eventually settling down on the couch with her scroll where she’d proceeded to spend the majority of her unplanned free time.

As such she was in the middle of reading an email from Penny when a familiar chirping sounded from down the hall. Her own scroll closing with a soft _click_ , Weiss stood and made for the bedroom, hoping that Roman would simply sleep through it. If his Bad Days were anything like hers, then the best thing would be to let him sleep it off.

Sadly it was not to be, when she looked through the open door Weiss found the Master Thief staring silently at the glowing screen propped up in one extended hand. He was mostly as she’d left him, stretched out on his stomach though he’d apparently snagged a pillow at one point and was letting it support his chin as he eyed his scroll. Several long moments passed with him like that, blinking only occasionally, but just as Weiss was about to speak up a loud, heavy sigh sounded.

If only to herself, Weiss could admit it startled her a bit. It was the first sound he’d made all day.

As if a switch had been flipped, Roman pushed himself up, went through the motions of gathering clothes, then made for the door. Weiss couldn’t be sure if he actually _noticed_ her as she ducked back out of the way, watching as he crossed the hall into the bathroom.

Weiss felt her brows furrow as the door clicked shut. On the one hand, she was relieved he was moving about coherently, but on the other… What could have motivated him to push past his lethargy?

 _I’ll have to ask when he gets out_. She decided, moving back down the hall as the sound of running water reached her ears.

Sometime later – and she wasn’t sure whether to think of it as ‘short’ or ‘long’ given the circumstances – Roman emerged again, hair damp but otherwise fully dressed. By then Weiss had long since collected what few of her belongings had managed to spread about, something sharp – though still worryingly dull – jade eyes obviously noted as the Master entered the living area.

“So…” He began with almost cheery nonchalance as he leaned against the back of a chair. “Seems one of my mooks bit off a bit more than they could chew.” A slight shrug, really Roman looked more bored than anything. “Feel free to stick around, be on your merry way, or tag along with me.”

“With you, of course.” Was Weiss’ immediate response, as if she’d do anything else. With an elegant wave at her own person, Weiss let her hand rest on Myrtenaster’s pommel and offered a lopsided smile as Roman’s brow quirked up. “I’m not leaving you alone, Ro. I said as much back when you ‘fired’ me.” Not, for a single instant, did she take his façade for truth. He was _not_ better, not even in the slightest, but she could admit to being in awe of the obvious willpower that let him not only get moving, but muster the effort to act even remotely like his usual self.

All the same, there was no way in Hell that she was going to let him run off to handle whatever mess a mook could get into that required the Master Thief’s _personal_ intervention. Not when she still had questions for him.

Not when her epiphany was still so fresh.

“Splendid!” Snatching up Melodic Cudgel with a cheery flourish, Roman let his hat drop on his head even as he made for the front door. “Then let’s be on our way, shall we?”

With a nod, and taking a moment to breathe, Weiss let the mantle of what she had once coined ‘the Schnee Heiress’ settle over her like an ethereal shroud. Gaze sharpening, she joined her former employer and now friend – _and perhaps more –_ step for step.

Today, it seemed, was the day for masks.

**-0-**

As it later turned out, the incident wasn’t nearly as dire as Roman had made it seem, though perhaps it was more her own imagination filtering through her own past experiences that exaggerated his rather blasé summary. Which was something of a relief as she had more than enough to be concerned about instead.

While Roman was prone to random napping Weiss had never seen him indulge to quite this extent. Granted, she would freely admit that she honestly wasn’t around him enough to be an accurate judge, but in this case it almost seemed like he spent more time asleep than he did awake, which did seem rather…odd. It was as if every time she checked an even remotely shadowed wall there he was, snoozing. At least every five minutes, though perhaps the concern-induced-adrenaline had skewed her sense of time.

Or her Semblance. Time was but another plaything, after all.

Nonetheless she couldn’t help but wonder how no one ever seemed to notice. More than once she’d had to nudge him back into motion and that wore steadily on her already frayed nerves, to the point she feared she’d be a nervous wreck by the time everything was resolved and they could retreat to his office or quarters. The highlight of her rather trying day was when she managed to bully him into eating later in the evening. An odd thing to take pride in, certainly, but she felt neither remorse nor shame for it. Though she did have to confess an inordinate amount of name calling and swearing may have been involved.

Namely in the hopes of provoking a genuine reaction out of him.

It had worked, if only somewhat. He’d stared at her long enough for discomfort to begin stirring, before he’d smirked, rolled his eyes, and even fired back a retort once or twice before ultimately acquiescing to her commands. Nowhere near his usual aplomb, though, and requiring far more prodding from her than she was entirely comfortable with. However, in the end she succeeded, matters were wrapped up in a decently suitable manner and she had been able to hustle Roman off to his private quarters where he could rest properly.

The next day he was back to his usual self, smirking at her over a cup of steaming coffee and unleashing a repartee of teasing comments about her worrying. Normally something to sting pride and dignity, the words were softened by tone and a surprisingly normal smile and his snarking was considerably tame even when her initial responses were those of offense.

 _Back to normal_ , she thought as she sipped her coffee, minute tension eased from her shoulders. A weight slipping free as the anniversary passed for another year. Though it did little to sooth the lingering… ‘horror’ wasn’t quite the right word, at the drastic changes in Roman’s mood. They left her more acutely aware of his shifting states, yet they also left a sense of _understanding_ , almost.

Unlike before, now so much of Roman’s actions, interactions, and general apathy _made sense_. Perhaps ‘understanding’ was also the wrong word. Sympathy, perhaps, a subconscious one. In this she could sympathize that his habits shifted – as her own did – between ‘good’ days, and ‘bad’.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And there you have it, the first - honest - hints at more than just friendship.


	12. Unguarded Trust

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> As this is a short chapter, I'll post a second as well; It's a bit longer, but I didn't want to leave you with a short one all by itself.

Maybe she could have sent the Intel directly, or through one of their shared contacts if she was feeling especially security sensitive, but Weiss found it easy to simply admit to herself that she had missed his company. It had been some weeks since she’d seen him last which, while busy, had been perhaps a touch lonely as well. As such, she knew that the real reason she’d come to one of his many outposts was because she wished to speak to him in person, rather than simply through an impersonal scroll call.

Striding into his office she suddenly came up short. Pausing, she glanced around, just to be sure. No Roman in sight. A quick check of his quarters, naturally located beyond the office, revealed it to be similarly barren, though considering it was only early afternoon it was unlikely she’d have found him there anyway unless this was another Bad Day.

With nothing especially pressing to warrant haste, she meandered around the outpost, sedately checking the places she’d come to identify as his favored haunts. Even then, it did not take long to find him in one of the back storerooms, curled on his side in the warm space. Not too far from the boiler, Weiss was amused to note, recognizing the distinctive shape even in the darkened room and, of course, the steady heat it projected.

 _Funny how…routine this feels._ Weiss mused, feeling a smile tugging on her lips as she crossed the room towards her sleeping friend.

And it truly was, the ease in which she had sought him out, the familiar pattern of deducing where he’d choose to sleep at least partially dependent on how long of a nap he’d intended to take. She’d napped alongside him often enough – what with working for him in the year past – to have picked up the subtle nuances behind it, after all. It was simply more obvious now that her contract with him had ended, though it had taken time for her to recognize it.

Time, and her epiphany.

Smile taking root, Weiss gently lowered herself beside the sleeping thief, letting her back rest against the wall and enjoying the ambient warmth.

 _He’s so relaxed when he sleeps._ Reaching out, she brushed ginger strands from his face. _So still._ No matter how often she saw him like this, there was always that split second of _unease_ before she registered the slow rise and fall of his chest as he breathed. A hold out of bad memories, which she silently banished before it could truly take root.

Instead she focused on the hair caught between her fingers, so bright, that vibrant orange, touched with only the slightest hints of gray near his temples. It certainly didn’t detract from his appearance. Rather, it added an odd sense of dignity, wisdom perhaps, to his bearing. Very much unlike her own snowfall.

And so very soft.

Unable to resist the urge, and lacking the honest desire to do so anyway, Weiss found her fingers carding through the shorter strands as her mind…drifted, for lack of better term. Not to any specific memory so much as the emotions associated with a myriad of memories. Joy, contentedness, if tinged with nostalgia-

It took a moment for her to register the slight shift. When she did, she glanced down.

Froze.

Roman, without her actually noticing, had shifted in his sleep. Rolling so his shoulders rested against her leg, and his face twisted around to press flush against her waist. He looked nothing less than a great, sleeping cat, utterly limp with his throat and jugular clearly exposed. A posture Weiss had seen many a housecat (and the odd feline faunus) take when they were truly content, and in a place they felt _safe_.

The hand tangled in his hair drifted down, coming to rest over his chest as her freehand began coming through coppery strands again-

_PrrRRrrrrRrrRRrrr_

Weiss froze again. Slowly relaxed when she matched the low, stutter sound with the slow rise and fall of the chest under her palm. Roman was asleep, completely at ease and vulnerable as he almost curled into her. The realization sent a surge of warmth through her: he trusted her. Truly and completely. Unguarded and asleep, the sleeping thief’s unconscious reaction to her presence was to press close, to seek her touch and relax into it.

Basking in that unexpected warmth, shielded by the privacy offered by the dark room and her friend’s undisturbed rest, Weiss trusted herself to speak.

“I love you, Roman.”

The sudden giddiness at _voicing_ that truth was almost dizzying. Between the warmth, both without and within, and heady realization that _Roman Torchwick_ trusted _her_ it was almost a miracle that she managed to remain upright, though perhaps part of that was not wanting to disturb him.

It was almost embarrassing, really.

_I need to stop letting Penny talk me into reading those novellas…_

Another thought welled up: She was the only one to see this side of him. The only one he let so close. He was never this… _at ease_ with others, had no close friends that she’d ever noticed, and maintained a certain distance from people in general unless some scheme of his dictated otherwise. Weiss realized she could also see behind his ‘masks’ with greater ease, could honestly tell if he was truly angry behind a mask of amusement, or concerned behind a mask of indifference.

He had…opened up, if only slightly, to her. She could almost vividly recall how he let his masks slip – just a little – when they were alone. It- she didn’t think she had the _words_ to describe this. While not nearly so fragile as it had first felt, Weiss still couldn’t quite put to thought – let alone proper wording – how she felt. It was, as she’d said before, alien to her, but no less precious for it and she found herself only ever more certain of herself in it.

She loved him. Now here, in this dark little storage room, the thought that he might love _her_ , if even a little, in return began to take root. With that thought, hope stirred and warmed a chill she had almost grown numb to.

Despite this, Weiss knew she would not tell him, confess to him – _Dust, Penny, why do I listen to you ramble? –_ yet. But soon, perhaps. Maybe not tomorrow, or the week following – each had their own lives regardless of her desire to tie them closer together – but she _would_. For now, she’d simply take things as they came, as she had for years and simply enjoy this moment and soak in the warmth it brought.

_A nap sounds rather nice, right now._

 


	13. Partners Dance

Experience told Weiss just how badly Beacon, and countless freelance Huntsmen, needed to be able to transport and apply support and Intel. Cold, unpleasant experience where mission specs were mis-, or under-, informed, and the resulting heartbreak that came when support arrived too late. The problem was too many tasks for those in charge, such as Ozpin and his staff, to properly manage it all properly. To have a system in place to compartmentalize all the supportive logistics so they could focus on the Problem and how best to deal with it…

Such would be an incredible asset. It was an asset she had every intention of providing. Hence her frustration.

Oh she knew the theory behind a proper supply line, knew what was required for a functional information network, and even knew what precautions and adjustments were needed when the eccentricities of Huntsmen were brought into the equation. It was all kin to what she had been taught growing up. The Schnee family were business folk to the bone, it was in their very blood.

The problem came when _applying_ what she knew. The Real World had the irksome tendency to derail even the best laid plans with the even more irksome Random Factors-

_Arrrgh!_

It about made her want to pull her _hair_ out! But that wouldn’t get anything done. So she grit her teeth and pressed on, dealing with each problem as it arose and applying a certain level of _creativity_ to some of the more stolid ones that Ruby would likely have been proud of, which actually did wonders for her stress level at times.

Slowly, ever so slowly, Weiss watched as things fell into place. As little victories cascaded into greater ones and _progress_ was made.

All the same, sometimes one had to know when to say ‘enough was enough’. Otherwise she’d be tempted to start an Age of Ice out of sheer pique at the World’s pettiness, and that’d be a waste of Dust.

So she’d held her temper.

And took a mental health day.

Technically she’d gone to ra- ahem, _discuss,_ the trials and frustrations and _still-to-dos_ with someone who _understood_ what it took to pull people together for a single, long-term goal. In her less-than-stable moment’s she’d declare Roman a dusted _Saint_ for not only managing his own people, but supporting her own as needed without ever losing his temper or even a breath of complaint.

He didn’t patronize her, either. Or give her empty platitudes. Actually, he was very blunt about what she needed to do to hold everything together and never, _ever_ let her forget just how much work still needed done. But he also helped her see the big picture, not the _who’s-who-and-what’s-where_ , but showing her what steps she’d completed – so _many_ – and made what still needed done seem…simpler. Not as oppressive.

It gave her hope.

All the same. Weiss had been buried under paper work for _weeks_ and restlessness was gnawing at her like a week-long fast.

So she’d asked Roman to spar with her. And he’d consented.

Oh they’d matched weapons before – at Roman’s suggestion, even – and had practiced basic weapon skills and forms. No Dust. Limited Semblance use. Roman had argued, quite convincingly too, that she wouldn’t always have the luxury of reloading during a mission or be able to depend on her Semblance every time. After all, what would she do if she ran short of supplies or her Aura ran dangerously low while out in the field? When she _couldn’t_ flee immediately to safety and resupply? Weiss had had to concede to his point, and admit to herself that she honestly _didn’t_ have the fencing skill needed to hold her own against more than a few Grimm at a time.

Which had brought to mind a certain instance involving a Boarbatusk and helpful-not-helpful voices cheering her on…

In any case, she was a fencer, yes, but her actual _strength_ lay in her Glyph mastery – let it never be said she did not value her Summons – and Dust manipulation. Remove all that, leaving nothing but Myrtenaster available? She was rather lacking.

So they had sparred when they’d had time – though more accurate to say they’d practiced forms – and she’d found those times to be both stress-relieving and informative. Whatever Roman’s own opinion of his skill at – and method _of_ – instruction, he was very helpful and insightful. But a ‘dance’ of katas through theoretical combat simulations wouldn’t be enough this time, not with the amount of frustration stewing in the back of her mind behind a hair-trigger latch.

Of course Roman set strict handicaps, which was understandable. Skilled and experienced though he was, a self-trained duelist with a style customized specifically for combating other humans just wasn’t in the same league as a professionally trained Huntress. Grimm were, after all, far more dangerous foes than civilians with untrained Aura. To say nothing of the other Huntsmen she had once – and still did on rare occasion – practiced with while training.

The handicaps went as such: No live-fire – which restricted him as well but considering his use of rounds compared to her powdered Dust cartridges he apparently considered it an acceptable sacrifice – and they would use only the melee aspects of their respective weapons. And limited use of her Semblance, no summoning or time dilation or other advanced techniques. But her default propulsion Glyphs were permitted. Both of them knew she was not a rooted fighter like he was, her style was meant for moving around the field to gain advantage or avoid potential damage.

And in all honesty, Weiss wasn’t sure she _could_ refrain from using her movement Glyphs. It was simply too instinctive an ability, too ingrained into her style, for her to fight well without it.

She was also fairly certain that, provided she was reading him right, Roman wanted a little bit of a challenge himself.

They’d started slow, really just following forms. It was familiar. Simple. And not even remotely near what they’d wanted out of this bout. So Weiss had picked up the pace, switching from matching his motions to actively trying to land blows on the man. Only they didn’t land as Roman expertly deflected, and on occasion dodged, her strikes. Mostly, anyways. A couple of times near the early part of their bout she _had_ managed to slip passed his guard. Once along his side, hip-to-rib, and another to his knee that had stumbled him briefly though he’d managed to recover before her next salvo struck.

The yelps provoked by the successful strikes had brought a smirk to her lips.

And had narrowed the visible jade eye.

Things slipped into a pattern after that: Weiss would up her speed and Roman would move to match her, to the point where she had to consciously _avoid_ reaching for her other abilities. A practice in restraint in-and-of itself. And she hadn’t been able to land a solid blow since. Clipped the tails of his coat, sure, but an actual strike to his Aura? Weiss could admit she hadn’t enjoyed a challenge like this, in safe settings, in a long time.

All the same, she couldn’t decide what irked her more: that she couldn’t even scratch his Aura no matter which angle she struck from, or how, ever since they started taking it more serious, Roman had Not – Stopped – _Laughing._

Technically, they were chuckles. Low, just maniacal enough that most people’s response would either be to duck for cover or find a straight jacket. And it was setting all the hairs on the back of her neck on end.

It also wasn’t helping that, despite the obvious physical strain, he did not seem the least bit fatigued. Hell, he wasn’t even breathing hard! At this rate he might even manage to outlast her.

She wasn’t a stamina-based fighter, she knew that. He knew that. Usually her full repertoire of abilities made such concerns unnecessary, but to lose this match for something as _plebian_ as losing her wind…

Well, seeing as she couldn’t actually _hit_ him, an alternative form of distraction was in-order.

“Ro,” With a smirk she darted in, Myrtenaster drawing a line for the elbow of Roman’s dominant arm. “I have to ask: what did you think of Blake’s trick on the train back then? She told me what she remembered seeing, but I’m curious as to how _you_ saw it.”

The chuckling stopped. Weiss was almost certain she saw the skin below one jade eye _twitch_ as he pivoted sharply away. “A cheap trick.” She could hear the growl in his tone, despite his obvious attempt to keep it even.

She was, she decided, vaguely offended as she ducked the handle of his cane as it came hard around. “Cheap?” She couldn’t hide her own amusement, though. Crouch, spin, an upward leap drawing a line from floor to ceiling. “I’d call it varied. After all, at the time you could probably have matched her.”

A neat sidestep left him untouched. “Yes. _Cheap_. It was a damn case of Dust Roulette and she got _lucky._ ” An open palm strike to her exposed sternum.

_Ooof!_

Rolling with the blow she flipped, landing on her feet and skating to his unarmed-side for a rapid series of thrusts. “Perhaps she did.” She had to admit. “You certainly seem a touch bitter over it.”

“You _think?_ ” Switching hands, Melodic Cudgel’s crook caught and rebuffed the initial thrust before rolling around his wrist to settle into a fencer’s guard as Roman ground out: “Lousy working conditions, idiots everywhere I turned, being expected to _manage_ said idiots, and then getting banged off the walls – repeatedly, I might add – by a sour puss with a chip in her shoulder bigger than a Dust Damned CCT!” He swung at the end of her salvo, missed, then skipped back a step for space. “I think I’m _entitled_ to a little _bitterness_ , Sweetheart!”

A beat. He advanced again, snarling as he swung up. “And she wasn’t even mad at _me_ so much as I happened to be an oh-so-convenient _scapegoat_ for all her problems with the world.” Blocking the retaliatory swing that darted around his sweep, he resumed his original defensive. “She was so indignant about Human treatment of Faunus, and then goes around and does the _exact damn thing?_ Seriously? I mean, _what the hell?_ I was doing my Dust-damned _job!_ ”

Feeling his fury ringing down her arms with each blow, Weiss winced. Darting back, she allowed another moment of breathing room – which, honestly, she needed – before darting in again to swing across from his unarmed side’s shoulder towards the opposing hip. “Perhaps you were. And Blake was a…series of contradictions. She was – and is – rather opinionated, and ran when her views were threatened, or her faults were brought to bear.” She broke from the intended swing, sweeping down towards his legs before pirouetting away. “And you must admit your ‘job’ at the time was a threat, regardless of her misguided anger.”

Roman grunted as the blow rebounded – _finally –_ off his Aura, but didn’t stagger as he spun to face her again. Fury under control once more. “Yet you didn’t see her trying to slit _Faunus_ throats.” Under control, maybe, but as strong as ever. “Just little ol’ me. Because I was _Human_ and _obviously_ leading them astray- Do you have any idea of some of the things those stupid mutts did before operations were moved to Mountain Glenn? And you all called _me_ the Bad Guy.”

…She could actually hear the capitals in that statement.

“You’re not wrong, I will admit.” Pulling back, Weiss set her stance, watching him with honest curiosity. “And I was rather biased in the opposite extreme at the time, though perhaps more controlled than she was.”

“You weren’t trying to murder anyone who happened to brush your berserk button.” Roman deadpanned, face flat and unimpressed as he flicked Melodic Cudgel for emphasis.

“Fair enough.” A nod, then she darted behind him, a rapid triple-jab aimed at the small of his back. “Well…then I have to ask this next, I suppose: what – or rather, how much – did you mean when you spoke to Ruby back then?”

A sharp pivot and metal rang against metal. “Back when? We had multiple little tête-é-têtes, you know. Be a bit more specific.”

“On Ironwood’s Airship. Your-” Here she snickered, “- _monologue_ to a fifteen year old girl who was – I must tell you – _honestly_ listening.”

A casual flick of his wrist deflected her jab as Roman smirked. “That was the plan, Sweetheart.” An aggressive step forward, Melodic Cudgel flipping so he gripped the kibble at the base. “If she was listening, she wasn’t _thinking_ , and if she wasn’t thinking then she wouldn’t suddenly remember she’d actually come to take the ship I rightfully stole.” A hard backhand swing, ivory handle careening towards her, then rebounded with a metallic _clang_ as Myrtenaster arced up to intercept it.

“Finding you there, I don’t think her goal was to take the ship, anymore, but to stop _you_.” A brief barrage of jabs and feints were met almost blow-for-blow. “That it would give her the ship was merely a bonus.” With practiced ease, Weiss slipped into a spin more fitting for a ballet rather than a high speed spar as she danced away just long enough to launch a flanking strike.

“Exactly!” Roman’s transition from offense to defense was so seamless as to be instantaneous. “And the more she listened, the less she fought back.” Here he actually snorted. “How naïve, she thought she could _talk_ me into stopping and, well, who was I to deny such a clear opening?”

“I think you enjoyed talking.” Weiss retorted. “Though that’s no surprise.” Laughing, she flicked Myrtenaster around to block and deflect his strikes accordingly. “You and grandstanding were made for each other. But honestly? I think it was that she _listened_ , rather than simply hearing.” A sudden twinge almost disrupted her flow, but she was used to it by now and could power through the suffocating grief. “Ruby always had a way about her, even when her opponent was never going to agree with her, to get them to take a step back. After all-” For a moment, icy blue met sharp jade, “-you never really hurt her.”

“Contrary to popular belief, I don’t actually _like_ killing.” Roman huffed. “Even if the little pest was being an _idiot._ ”

“No…” Something tugged at her awareness, almost out of reach, not that it distracted her as Weiss swept out and around as she took the offensive. “I think I might actually have a higher body count than you. At least for my thirty-odd years now as compared to your thirty-odd years back then.”

“Well…” Dust, he actually sounded somewhat offended as he maintained a flawless defense. “I wouldn’t go _that_ far, Sweetheart.”

“Perhaps not.” Weiss allowed. “There is a difference between murder and defense-of-life.” An apologetic smile settled in place even as she took yet another swipe at him. “And sometimes one has no choice, in either case.”

“…Point.” His gaze followed her even as she danced behind him again. “But, more to the point, in regards to our earlier discussion.” Roman spun to let Myrtenaster rebound off Melodic Cudgel once more, sending an upward sweep that only just clipped a passing elbow. Jade eyes narrowed, thwarted. “You’ve got resources, you’ve got a the solid foundation for a network, all that you’re really missing is a _name_ for this little operation of yours.”

“True.” Weiss spun away, turning with a stray blow rather than weathering it, and gliding across the floor before sweeping back in. “I’ve been thinking of some, but I’m still not certain. Perhaps ‘Supply & Data Cooperative’, to mock my father… But I’d rather not catch Winter in our dispute. Besides, I’m not that petty. Not openly-”

A sudden hook collapsed her knee.

_What-_

An open palm strike to her breast drove the breath from her lungs.

_-just-_

Her skull connected with the hard ground and stars blossomed across her vision.

- _happened?_

Gasping, Weiss could only just make out the silhouette of Roman looming over her. The cane-cum-gun-barrel pinning her swordarm to the floor was much easier to distinguish, it didn’t rely on faulty vision.

“Hm…” Leaning casually on the crook of his cane – Weiss knew there’d be bruises on her arm later, if only until the next morning came – Roman smiled at her. Friendly. Open. Were it not for the predatory glint of _satisfaction_ in his eyes. “What about-” He hummed thoughtfully. “Fallen Snow Incorporated?”

Still blinking back stars, Weiss rolled the name around in her mind. It had…a certain ring to it, she could admit. A newness, while also calling back to her past as part of a powerful business.

 _I rather like it._ She decided. “Certainly better than my own ideas. I must admit that Ruby was the one for naming things. Never quite caught onto whatever train of thought she used, myself-” Then the nuance behind the name sunk in and she trailed off.

 _Fallen_ Snow. Not simply newness, but having fallen from the heights. Turning her back on the old and, by that same logic, building above the ground around her and covering old stains.

It was _perfect._

“I think,” She mused, warmth humming behind her aching sternum. “it will be just right.”

Satisfied, Roman leaned back – fortunately for her poor abused arm– Melodic Cudgel settling by his side as he offered a free hand. Carefully suppressing a smirk, Weiss leaned up on her elbows and reached out to take the proffered hand. Getting a firm grip, she _yanked-_

Found herself abruptly back on her feet.

Blinking, a little bewildered, up at that amused, _knowing_ smirk, Weiss felt her face burn. Of _course_ , nothing could break his rooted stance unless high explosives were involved. Naturally he’d be familiar with _that_ particular trick.

Still amused, Roman released her hand and took a polite step back. Bowed once. Then spun on his heels and walked away without another word, leaving Weiss to smile after him. After a moment she brushed off her clothing before retrieving Myrtenaster from where it had fallen.

Fallen.

Weiss let out a pleased hum. She had a _name_ , now, and everything else was ready. All that was left was to set up a base.

_And I know just the place, too._

 


	14. Moving On

Moving about the Vale apartment, Weiss found herself humming even as she slipped in and out of the tarp covered rooms Ruby and Yang had once used, packing the few belongings of theirs she’d felt worth saving. It wasn’t much: Crescent Rose, of course, along with Ember Celica as well as some of their more nostalgic possessions, such as the faded but still adorable Zwei-shaped pillow the sisters had owned, Ruby’s sleeping mask –which Weiss herself used on the rare occasion she’d been back in Vale – and, for some reason she had yet to pin down, Yang’s old hairbrush. Why she kept the _hairbrush_ , of all things, Weiss honestly didn’t know. She certainly didn’t use it, and it wasn’t like it was a high end product.

Well, not to someone who’d grown up the modern equivalent of royalty, at least. Hearing Yang complaining about the prices of the widely available hygiene products had been a surprisingly eye opening experience.

Linger outside the fourth and last bedroom, this one long since stripped clean, Weiss sighed. A small part of her had – if only in the privacy of her own mind – hoped Blake would encourage her to keep the apartment. Nonetheless she couldn’t say it actually _bothered_ her when the cat faunus had messaged the opposite.

Though the follow up message the day after, when Weiss had begun packing her own things, had been an honest surprise.

 **From: Blake**  
_I’m glad you’re moving forward, Weiss._  
 _Maybe we’ll visit sometime._

After a moment’s astonishment, Weiss had smiled, saved the message, and continued on. Now, nearly a month later, she was gathering the last few things and double-checking herself before she’d alert the management that she was out of the apartment.

Setting the collapsed forms of her teammates’ weapons on a box near the front door, she resumed humming as she moved over to the hall closet, opened it and may have used a basic Platform Glyph to step up and survey the furthest corners of the top shelf. Yes, she had indeed forgotten a box. A slight frown settled on her face, momentarily annoyed at having allowed Yang to hide her mother’s china there years ago. It wasn’t like it served much use this way, other than taking up space.

Banishing the annoyance, fleeting though it had been, Weiss conjured a Frictionless Glyph beneath the box to tip it forward. A mistake, she realized to late as she misjudged the actual _weight_ of the box and her own precarious balance as dusty cardboard slid passed outstretched fingers on a direct collision course with her face.

It was pure, unthinking reflex that had her flinch back, eyes snapping shut as she braced for impact.

_Twang_

Two strained breaths, then the _lack_ of impact registered. Eyes snapping open, Weiss looked again. There, just barely in the poor light of the closet, she could just catch the glint of fine metal filaments crisscrossing between her person and the overbalanced box, holding the latter’s weight.

Now a smile tugged at her face, equal parts exasperation and amusement as she turned to face her unexpected intruder.

“Hello again, Penny.”

The puppeteer grinned and saluted. “Hello, Friend-Weiss!”

Without a visible motion from Penny, the fine wires first righted the box from it’s almost fall, then set it neatly – and gently – on the ground beside Weiss. With hardly a twang they wound loose before receding into the ‘backpack’ their wielder kept them in. That done, the Synthetic person made a show of looking around, clearly taking note of the neatly stacked rows of boxes and now-barren walls.

Electric-green eyes landed on Weiss. “You’re moving?”

“Yes.” Nodding, Weiss smiled and gestured towards the empty space. Despite her best efforts, she felt her expression fall halfway through the motion. “I rarely come here, and my company’s offices are well outside the City. It’s just…too big, for just me.” Letting her arm return to her side, she looked at her friend. “I was going to message you once I’d settled in.”

“I… _happened_ to be in town.” Penny shrugged, evidently trying for nonchalant and, surprisingly enough, succeeding.

Mostly.

Weiss had to smirk at the barely muffled hiccup that followed the statement.

“And though I would drop in to check on my Dear Friend Weiss.” The android finished, blinking wide, innocent eyes at her.

Smirk softening to an honest smile at the sight of the familiar expression, one Penny and Ruby both inadvertently shared, Weiss dipped her head. “I’m a ‘dear friend’ now, am I? Thank you, that means a lot. How have you been?”

Penny’s spine snapped straight at attention, arms stiff at her sides, as she grinned brightly. “Oh I am very well! My Father has recently made some alterations to my Aura Projector and my success rate in the field has risen exponentially. Mr. Ironwood was very pleased and has permitted me to take part in more long distance missions. Specialist Winter Schnee has been assigned my commanding officer for my next mission. If all goes well, she will become my permanent Handler.”

Hearing her sister’s name sent a jolt down her spine. “She has?” Weiss blinked, then deliberately relaxed. “How has she been? Neither of you are over-reaching yourselves, are you?”

“Specialist Winter is well, she was recently promoted and is handling it well...” Here Penny hesitated a moment before continuing, now with a hint of caution in her tone. “Managing so many resources is a great challenge, even with dependable adjutants, and she is still of lower rank than Mr. Ironwood.”

“I know she can do it.” Weiss assured, noting the way Penny had gone still in a way that would have been odd in a person of flesh-and-blood. “She’s always been very capable, you’re in good hands.”

“And how about yourself?” Penny canted her head slightly, still staring at her. “I have heard how you launched your own Corporation.” A minute pause. “Mr. Schnee’s reaction to the news is not to be repeated.”

At that Weiss frowned, then rolled her eyes. “ _Father-_ ” She couldn’t suppress the acid in her tone, nor did she try. “-can just jump in a Beowulf Den. As long as the SDC stays away he won’t have to worry about a possible body cound and _I_ won’t have to worry about any police reports or noise complaints. I’m banned from the Schnee line and the SDC, _not_ from making a living.”

“According to reports you have met overwhelming success thus far.” Penny stated, almost _mechanically_ , the muted lighting of the apartment only highlighting the very real luminescence to her otherwise human-like eyes.

She still hadn’t blinked, Weiss noted, frowning slightly both at that unusual ‘break from character’ in the android’s otherwise convincing façade – normally she was _very_ particular about emulating proper Human posture and movements – and the rather poorly hidden implications. “I’m doing fine, Penny.” She assured. Firmly. “And so is Fallen Snow.” Her expression softened, if only just. “I’m rather proud of it. It’s not nearly the trial you’d think, and I have good people at my side.”

A blink, inhuman stillness breaking as Penny fidgeted in place, worrying at her lower lip as she looked anywhere _except_ Weiss. “The SDC has been known to utilize… _questionable_ methods when handling anything even remotely resembling a potential rival. I…think you might register a bit higher than just _potential_. They will try to be…discreet…and focus where you are not.”

“Thank you, Penny.” Weiss’ frown deepened. “I’m afraid I’m well aware of their underhanded methods…and how likely I’d rate as a threat. Not that that’s anything new, I stopped some of their interference just a couple of years ago- you could ask Ozpin for the report. But, as I said, I have good contacts. We’ll make it through just fine.”

“But now you have people openly working for you…and not everyone is strong enough to say ‘ _no’_. Or they don’t want to at all.” Penny gave Weiss another meaningful look.

“Penny…” Now Weiss was feeling the beginnings of actual concern, what was her friend trying to convey? “They are good people, most of whom I’ve interacted with even before offering them a job with Fallen Snow. Some aren’t necessarily ‘on-the-books’, as I’m sure you’d know given what I’m doing for Huntsmen, and I’m aware that others won’t be able to resist the SDCE agents when – not if – they try interfering…” She fixed her friend with a look, both watchful and concerned. “Penny…why did you come here? I appreciate the company – it _is_ good to see you – and the warning, but…” Weiss trailed off expectantly.

“I just…” Fidgeting again, Penny continued avoiding her gaze as she shifted her weight from one foot to the other. “I need to be _sure._ ”

Ominous, and Weiss had a feeling there was something very _specific_ that her friend was worried about. Something other than the realities of cut throat business politics. So, with a sigh, she reached out to rest a light hand on the other woman’s shoulder, who flinched at the touch.

“Penny. Look at me.”

Flinching again, the Synthetic Person slowly raised her head to meet her gaze.

“Do I look threatened or pressured?” A shot in the dark, perhaps, but she had to start fishing somewhere to pin down the real problem. “What’s got you so _tangled up_ and _high strung_ that you’d come all the way from Atlas?”

Yet another flinch and Penny looked away. Fidgeted again, seemingly weighing her options, before taking an empowering breath she didn’t actually need before making eye contact again, expression growing severe.

“I am… _concerned_ about whoever it is that has been backing you.” This time they _both_ flinched before Penny pressed on, face earnest. “You have to understand, once someone reaches a certain level of proficiency they tend to stand out. A file, a rumor, there’s always _something_ confirming their existence, something that lets others get a feel for their character and modus operandi.” A momentary pause and a superfluous breath. “But that is not the case here, whoever has been supporting you, who… ‘sheltered’ you during your depression and as you were establishing Fallen snow…”

Ginger hair waved back and forth as Penny shook her head. "There’s _nothing_ on them. That means they are not merely proficient but _exceptional_ , and that they are actively avoiding notice. At _best_ I can spot vague patterns spanning a great deal of the Sanus continent that _might_ be connecting, but nothing solid enough to quantify as ‘evidence’, and whenever I find even the slightest digital trace they not only rebuff my probe but _vanish_ outright so I have to start all over again!”

Eyes wide, Weiss almost reached out. “Penny-”

But the android stopped, taking a breath meant to calm rather than provide oxygen before she continued in a more controlled tone, expression flat. “The last person to match that description was Cinder Fall, before she moved on Vale proper.” Whatever response Weiss wanted to muster died in her throat as Penny held her gaze, eyes equally wide. “I’m worried…I’m _afraid_ that whoever this person is that helped you, that makes you _smile_ again… that they’re just leading you along until they have what they want and they-”

Shuddering, Penny broke eye contact and seemed to shrink as she hugged herself. “I’m afraid that you will not see it coming, because they are giving you what you need. I am afraid because I am always in Atlas, and Blake does not talk to you, and you do not _have_ anyone else to look with an outside view to see if such aid is sincere…or not.”

“He _isn’t_ like _Cinder!_ ” Weiss gasped out, lips twisting into a sneer at the terrorist’s name, before she stopped and took a deliberate calming breath. _But he might have been._

Logically she understood Penny’s concerns. Each and every thing the android had brought up was perfectly valid, and in a world such as theirs it would be foolish to place their survival on something as nebulous as the _goodness of Humanity._

Especially in their line of work.

If she hadn’t come to know Roman like she had, then Weiss would be just as concerned as Penny if their positions had been reversed. Only she _did_ know him. True, he didn’t regret the things he’d done – only their consequences, but only some – but she could forgive him that. He was who he was, just as he’d said when her contract had ended.

Just like her.

Smoke and Mirrors. Him and Her.

But now wasn’t the time to think on that. Penny needed some reassurance that Weiss wasn’t in danger, or being taken advantage of. With that in mind, she sighed softly and gave the Synthetic Person’s shoulder a light squeeze. “I _know_ I can trust them, Penny. This isn’t- he isn’t ‘getting something’ from me aside from a contact. Just as he is my contact.”

“But…how can you be _sure_?” Penny’s voice sounded very small. “People like that? They’re _very_ good at making others see what they want them to see.”

 _She’s not wrong_ , Weiss had to acknowledge, remembering Roman’s myriad of masks, and the ease in which he used them when he _wanted_ something. It was a tricky question, and her answer had to be worded just right.

“He’s never made me do anything.” Her voice came out…softer than she’d intended. “Yes, he helped me open my eyes, but I got back on my feet on my own.” Weiss withdrew her hand, crossing her arms in thought. Frowning, she looked towards the floor. “We…met at a tavern, out in the Reaches. We talked for a while…and he pointed out that I was ‘forgetting to stop and smell the roses’, and…he was _right_. I didn’t see him again for several months, after that, when I found that situation I mentioned, between the SDC and a remnant of White Fang. _I_ called _him_ and…he answered. He agreed to help, and in return I worked for him for a time.”

Now she looked up again, focusing on Penny, who had gone oddly still again and listening _very_ intently. “I told you the truth, last time. It _was_ helping people-” Steel lined her voice, but so did an odd softness. “Ruby would have approved, of that I’ve no doubt. And when the deal was up? He not only let me go, he _encouraged_ me. That’s why I started working on Fallen Snow, because I knew I could help even more people by establishing a support network in the field, rather than return to being a solitary Huntress.”

For a long moment, Penny held Weiss’ eyes, giving her a searching look. Then she relaxed again, blinked, and smiled. “Alright. I suppose you are uniquely prepared to spot would-be predators. And…he _has_ been helping you when I couldn’t, when there was no one else…”

Watching the android begin to droop, Weiss reached out to her again. “I don’t hold that against you, Penny.” She assured, smiling again and offering a comforting squeeze before dropping her arm again. “I wasn’t really reaching out, either. Even messaging Blake was more of a habit, back then, than actually trying to keep touch.”

Not that Blake had really responded to even those.

“But I am here now!” Penny declared suddenly, saluting. “And I shall now assist you in moving to your new Place of Residence!”

Weiss blinked. Looked around. She’d almost forgotten what she’d been doing before Penny had arrived. That…wasn’t entirely like her. Not that she was adverse to the offered help, though.

“That would be wonderful, Penny. Thank you.”

**-0-**

Carefully setting the last box from the cargo truck down on the front step of the modest – almost cottage-like – home she had selected, Weiss waved for Penny to do the same. Which the android did with far more ease courtesy of a much greater base strength at her disposal even _without_ the bolstering attributes of her Aura. Weiss was almost jealous, her slight frame having never favored the kind of raw power Yang had boasted of, or Penny casually wielded.

But then, she had her Glyphs, so she supposed that balanced things out in the end.

Unlocking the door, the CEO of Fallen Snow stepped inside. “Here, I’ll show you around before we move everything in. Most of this trip was…Yang and Ruby’s old things. Things I…couldn’t throw out.”

“I understand.”

While well-built, the house’s décor and design matched the almost rustic feel of the town. The front door opened into the living area, a low counter separating it from the kitchen-dining area, with a short hallway leading to two bedrooms. Said rooms weren’t overly large but were spacious all the same, and were joined with a bathroom and a much smaller room clearly meant as a storage space.

 _Roman will like that._ A whimsical part of Weiss’ mind mused and she had to suppress a snicker, and mentally note to get a space heater for the room as the boiler was conjoined with the bathroom.

Leading Penny around with a pleased smile on her face, Weiss verbally sketched out her current plans for arranging her new abode, though after making sure to state that most of the boxes would be moved to the back room for the time being and _not_ unpacked immediately. She remembered Penny’s…overly enthusiastic assistance when she and her team had first bought the Vale Apartment, so a bit of discretion was called for this time.

After that brief break they relocated the rest of the boxes in fairly short order and Weiss even managed to set up her mother’s china in a hutch located in the living room before they had migrated to the newly placed dining table to simply converse. Unlike other spontaneous visits, Penny did not seem particularly pressed for time, which Weiss found curious. While it was implied that the Synthetic Person had managed another twenty-four-hour-escape from Ironwood, it lacked the same subtle urgency such usually came with. Perhaps Penny would be willing to share more of her current situation-

“So…when can I meet him?”

Thoughts screaming to an abrupt stop, Weiss jerked in her seat as her smile froze in place. She recovered quickly though and relaxed again. “Perhaps sometime down the road.” Or perhaps not at all, she did not want to put Penny in a compromising position. “He’s as busy – or busier than – I am much of the time.”

Penny gave her a wide-eyed look, electric green pleading. “But Weiss, I simply _must_ meet him! Isn’t that the way it goes? Bringing one’s Significant Other for _proper_ inspection? That’s how it is in all the stories!” Here she paused a moment, suddenly thoughtful. “Admittedly it is supposed to be done by a parent or sibling, but seeing as those simply are not options then allowances can be made for Dear Friends, instead. And as such I will be happy to oblige!” She snapped off a cheery salute.

“This isn’t a story, Penny.” Weiss chastised gently even as a smile tugged at her lips and she shook her head. Perhaps her rather… _unique_ friend had had her head in perhaps too many novellas of late. “And he isn’t my…” She trailed off, feeling a familiar warmth spreading across her cheeks as Penny’s phrasing sunk in. A little dazed, she stared passed Penny and out the window leading to the street beyond.

 _Be honest, Weiss,_ _at least as much as he can afford_.

“Well,” She allowed. “I suppose that _is_ somewhat accurate…but you don’t really need-”

“I know it won’t have quite the same effect, coming from me-” Penny plowed on. “-but surely being told that I will string him up by his entrails and leave him for the Nevermore will insure his continued good behavior and _appropriate_ treatment of My Friend Weiss.”

…Weiss honestly could not tell whether her friend was joking or not. Though the thought behind the statement brought a grin to her face, which led to a chuckle, then an outright _laugh_.

“I’m sorry, Penny.” Covering her mouth, as was polite, Weiss tried to coax composure back regardless of the mirth still tickling at her ribs. “I’m not making light of it. You are simply a treat to be around. A ‘ _dear friend’_ , indeed.”

The other Huntress _beamed_.

 


	15. Raid

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A panicked message from Penny sends Weiss back to her Head Office. Stomping, hard, on the attacking force, Weiss is barely in time.

_Something…seems off._

_What_ , exactly, that something was Weiss couldn’t even begin to place. Other than the fact that the message she’d received from Roman had seemed...almost scripted, which was rather out of character for him. Yes, he enjoyed his games, and as they had yet to put either her or Vale in any danger - quite the opposite, in fact - she’d never really minded, only this time…

This time, something just felt _wrong._

It was nothing blatant, in fact she’d not thought much of it at first, only telling her secretary that she was leaving on some business, would stay in contact, and be sure to pass on when she’d be returning. As it was now nearing late-afternoon, Weiss doubted she’d be returning until late the next day and as such had already left simple instructions to operate as usual. She’d keep track of her business email and Scarlett knew to flag anything particularly urgent and forward it to her as needed.

Not until after the second meeting of this little venture did Weiss pick up on a certain oddity: the destinations for the various meetings she was seeing to were leading steadily away from the Fallen Snow HQ and closer to Vale proper, practically a straight line, in fact. Normally a chain of meetings such as this typically formed a kind of rough spiral with her HQ at its general center. While not _impossible_ such could happen, it did seem rather peculiar and left her with the strangest feeling of being led _away_ …

 _I’m just being paranoid_. She decided, frown marring her brow.

Hours later when she received a rather unexpected email from her secretary, Weiss reconsidered her previous dismissal.

__ From: Scarlett Donella  
Thank you for the early weekend, Ms. Weiss. I hadn’t realized you had hired more people, particularly without alerting me in the process. Please never feel the need to doubt my willingness to insure every one of them is settled in properly.  
Please have an productive trip.

Weiss had most certainly _not_ organized an early weekend – there was simply too much work to do, though she had been considering something for the following week – and she hadn’t had a single new hire since the week before and Donella had been the one to vet them in the first place!

Something was _definitely_ going on, of that she was now certain.

But what?

Nerves stretching taunt in the back of her mind, the sixth sense all Huntsmen developed practically ringing that _something was wrong_ , Weiss nearly leapt out of her seat when her scroll warbled a familiar tune.

__ From: Penny  
Evac HQ, New Intel! Raid soon! No Time!  
I am sorry, DFW.

“ _Roman.”_ Weiss breathed as the pieces finally fell into place, fear and anger warring for dominance. He’d _known_ , and not only had he known, but he had _actively manipulated_ her to get her out of the vicinity, away from the descending storm without seeing fit to _warn her first_!

Those were her people back there, damn it!

It was a true test of will for Weiss to push back the red haze threatening to engulf her vision. Yes, a rapid response was needed, but she had to _think_ first.

 _The offices might be empty_. She reasoned. _At least of my employees, Scarlett’s message implied as much._ She hoped so, oh she dearly hoped so. _That means whoever_ is _there...likely work for Roman._ And wasn’t that just like him, circumventing her like that? But this was _her_ business he was interfering with, oncoming threat or no. He should have warned her! It was her right and responsibility to look after what she had built, _not_ be sent away like some fainting maiden!

She had over _fifteen years_ of _Dust damned combat experience_! Against humans almost as much as the Creatures of Grimm.

Stuffing her scroll into the pouch at the small of her back with a bit more force than strictly necessary, Weiss hit the manual release to the door separating the cabin from the cockpit. “Pilot! Turn us around _now!_ Max speed back to Fallen Snow Incorporated!”

To his credit, the man didn’t hesitate. “Yes, Ma’am!”

Letting the door slide shut again, Weiss braced against her seat as the ship bucked and canted sharply. Before it even righted itself after the abrupt u-turn she was opening her scroll – annoyed she had even put it away to begin with – and began reaching out to any Huntsmen within range who were even loosely affiliated with the FSI. Roman’s men were good, this she could vouch from experience, but it wouldn’t be enough. With a sudden, frightening clarity she realized that the raid Penny had warned her of – that Roman had prepared for – was meant to catch _her_ in its net.

Intelligence agents simply would not be enough. Overwhelming strength was what was called for.

She only hoped that she would be in time.

**-0-**

By the time she arrived, backed by a half-dozen trained Huntsmen with more on the way, the fighting had spilled outside as the building’s defenders pushed back against their attackers. In the flickering light of the street lamps and the luminescence from her own building, the sight of men dressed in suits eerily – but not quite – like what Junior’s boys favored firing _into_ the offices was especially jarring.

The sight of the outdated Atlesian Paladin, on the other hand, merely made her see red.

Letting her trusted White Knight - conjured alongside her airship - skewer it from above was _immensely_ satisfying. And brought an odd twinge of nostalgia for some reason, but she’d ruminate on that at another point.

With practiced ease, Weiss leapt from the open hatch, several allied Huntsmen falling with her, and descended on the darkened battlefield. Myrtenaster singing through the air, she cut a bloody, ice-edged path through the densest mass of those a distant part of her was praying _wasn’t_ Roman’s men-

Even in the bad lighting, none of the faces were even remotely familiar.

Emboldened, she beckoned her Summon forward, it casting a faint, blue-tinged glow ill-fitting to the vicious atmosphere, and, without the least twinge of regret, set it upon the assailants on the front steps. Not inside, though, rebuilding the walls and roof would be an unnecessary inconvenience.

There’d be enough needing repaired as it was.

 _It’s...not as bad as it could have been._ Weiss realized as the phantasmal great sword swatted enemy foot soldiers about like bowling pins. _It could have been much worse_. From Penny’s frantic message and her own paranoia she would have expected high quality, and explosive rounds or Atlas’ newer weapons if she’d guessed the source of the attack accurately. Not people with mismatched arms and a few stray Paladins that were probably the discontinued 1st Gen models like those used in the Assault of Beacon-

_Oh._

She very deliberately shoved that realization aside for later examination, and just as deliberately focused on defending her company.

In contrast to the nerve-wracking build up, the fight itself drew to a close within a short time with Weiss’ twice-given command to not let _anyone_ get away executed with almost enthusiastic prejudice. She herself couldn’t remember many exact details, as was often the case when it came to fighting other _people_ rather than Grimm. That it was a night fight only made it harder. Weiss could, however, vaguely recall the signature whistle and flash of Roman’s flares going off at least three times though she’d yet to see the man himself.

Passing through the mess of demolished desks, blood stains and more stray bodies than she’d honestly prefer Weiss made for the rear of her building where her private office was located. Among the mess a bloodied trench knife caught her eye as she passed, abandoned on the ground not far from another corpse, this one badly charred though the cause-of-death was clearly the blow to the skull that had smashed it beyond recognition. Absently noting it, Weiss made to continue on but had to just stop and stare at what looked to be a pretzeled length of rusted pipe with a crooked end laying near the corpse.

A corpse wearing a coat that, she realized, despite the horrific burning, had once been _white_.

“Not the Boss.” A man dressed as one of _her_ employees grunted before she could finish her sudden inhale, he shot the corpse a particularly nasty look before moving on without a backwards glance. Fortunately. It meant he didn’t get to see the way she almost physically _dragged_ herself back from the depths of a sudden panic attack.

 _Not Roman._ Shaking her head, she forced herself forward again without a backwards glance and happened across another body, this one also memorable not because of the bloodied hand but because the head was twisted clear around. Naturally there could be no doubt as to the cause of death. It was almost beautifully done, in a morbid sort of way that set the fine hairs of her neck on end.

From there she made a point to ignore any other potential bodies and instead followed the obvious blast scars now marring the walls and flooring. Clearly Roman’s work. The signs of his signature weapon were something she was quite familiar with by this point. Obviously he’d fought from the rear, intercepting anyone foolish enough to make it this far.

With their people – her’s now arriving to work with Roman’s, all wearing the same uniform and only distinguishable because she knew the faces of those _actually_ employed in her HQ – already cleaning up the mess, Weiss stepped through the door opening to the short hall before her private office. As she started turning left towards her office door she noticed a trail of dark red in the otherwise unmarred hallway, leading further back towards the stairwell and out of sight.

Hand on Myrtenaster’s pommel, Aura and Glyphs humming on the fringes of her awareness, the CEO of FS Inc edged past the door to follow the blood trail. The automatic lights of the hall were dark, likely due to whatever had shorted the rest of the building’s lighting and automatic defenses with the only sources of illuminating coming from her office window and the top of the stairs - both having independent power sources, which meant that she nearly overlooked the body slumped against the side of the stairs.

Her heart seemed to catch in her throat as she recognized Roman’s figure as she jerked forward to kneel beside him. His head was angled back, his right arm slung almost awkwardly across his middle with Melodic Cudgel - the _real_ Melodic Cudgel - abandoned nearby with but a few scuff marks.

“Roman?” Her voice was low, panicked, and it took what felt like an eternity for her to note the slow, labored rise and fall of his chest. She could just barely hear his breathing. “Roman!”

A faint grunt sounded as the man stirred, jade eyes flickering open. “Hey...Sweetheart…”

Dust, she could barely hear him.

“Don’t _‘hey’_ me!” Weiss snapped, leaning forward to rest a hand on his shoulder. “Where are you hurt? Do you need me to get one of our medics? Or risk an ambulance?” The nearest town wasn’t all that far, easy walking distance in fact.

“Mm…” Lips curled into the ghost of a smirk. “Careful...wrinkles... _heh_.”

“I don’t care about worry-lines!” Reaching back she pulled out her scroll and going through the process of connecting to the building’s PA system which, miraculously, still seemed to work. “I’m getting a medic, you better stay awake!”

A wince flashed across Roman’s face as he lifted his head from the wall. He coughed once, twice, a pained, forced sound that seemed to wrack his whole body as red splashed against his already stained coat. “Sorry….” He leaned back again, blood running down his chin. “...trying.”

“Do better than _try_!” The words were harsher than she intended as she had to choke past the worry clogging her throat. It had been a long time since she’d seem someone she cared about hurt like this, and the last time…

Last time it had been Ruby.

Gripping her scroll, Weiss barked into it and her voice echoed throughout the building. “Medic to rear stairwell!” Setting it down again she mentally _shoved_ her inner monologue of likely injuries aside in favor of reaching out to rest her palm against his cheek. “Stay with me, Roman. Help will be here soon, we’ll get you patched up and snarking at everything that moves.”

He leaned, marginally, into her touch with a low hum. “Not...now?” Another painfully wet cough did nothing to deter the growing smirk on his face, but his eyes had gone half-mast.

“Oh, c-certainly. Snark all you want.” Weiss laughed, hating the liquid-y quality to the sound, rubbing his cheek with her thumb. “Nothing I do ever stops you.”

Perhaps there was a flash of blood-stained teeth, but it – and the smirk – faded until nothing but weariness remained. Tension eased enough for him to start sagging in her direction when Roman let out a sudden his of pain and abruptly straightened again.

Alarmed, Weiss leaned forward - twisting around without dislodging her hand - to check his far side and had to bite back a particularly foul curse. There, stuck low between his ribs, was a large _knife_. On impulse her other hand reached out to touch the hilt-

An inarticulate cry of pain tore from Roman’s throat as he arched, trying to curl around his wounded side.

“No! Roman, try not to move.” Jerking her gaze back from the hilt to his face she gripped both his shoulders to try and hold him straight. “That looks like it punctured a lung…”

The audible _thunk_ of skull-meeting-concrete sounded as Roman’s head fell back. Eyes clenched shut, teeth bared in a silent snarl, he managed to writhe while staying mostly still, legs tense and partially curled, fingers clawing impotently at the air. Then, all at once, he relaxed again with glassy eyes and his breathing coming in labored, stolen breaths. Another dollop of blood stained his lap.

Heart wrenching at the sight, Weiss cupped a hand against his face again.

Footsteps sounded behind them as two people – a Faunus she’d recently hired and an unfamiliar Human likely working for Roman – came up at a dead run, bags in their grip. Weiss jerked to the side, pressing against the stairwell to get out of their way but refusing to break contact, even going so far as to bring up her free hand to cup Roman’s other cheek. The newly arrived pair worked around her, crouching down to check on him, the Human visibly wincing as he spotted the knife handle.

Tears burned her eyes and her voice cracked as she spoke. “It- it’ll be o-okay, Ro. Just hold in. Please.”

“Tr…n’…”

“That’s good. Just stay with me, okay?”

“Ms. Weiss, we need to get him to a…friendly hospital.” The Faunus’ voice was gentle, if urgent.

The Human nodded. “I know one.” He affirmed. “But we need to move.”

“Just keep him alive.” Weiss ground out, voice somehow oscillating between panicked and heartsick. “Roman- Ro, d-don’t die on me, okay?” Gloved fingers found her hand. Clenched. Vision blurring she touched her forehead to his and whispered, barely loud enough for him to hear her as the medics worked to get him relatively stable. “I- I _can’t_ …not again.” As more people arrived, this time with a stretcher, half-closed, bleary jade met her own winter-blue, coherent despite pain and blood loss and oddly sad.

“M…sr’y…” Roman’s head lolled limply on his neck, expression slack. His hand slipped from hers.

“Don’t- don’t you dare.” Voice rising against her will, Weiss fought to pay attention to whether his chest was still rising or not and _not_ the welling memories threatening to consume her. “No. Roman, _no!”_

As the medics rushed him out, their voices lost to the white noise of falling rain, Weiss remained where she was. How long she remained at the stairwell, gaze fixed on Melodic Cudgel without truly seeing it – instead the phantom of Crescent Rose lay in its place – she couldn’t say, but eventually she forced leaden limbs to move and somehow made it to the relative refuge of her office.

The next few hours blurred as she moved mechanically through the reports of filing an incident report before the local police finally showed their faces.

To be truly honest she couldn’t fault their belated appearance. The fight prior her arrival must’ve seemed like a war, and afterwards when she and her Huntsmen joined the fray it would only have reinforced that image.

Local police wouldn’t have had the equipment to even begin fighting the assailants, let alone the Paladins.

Once the interview ended, Weiss dismissed her people – both hers and Roman’s – as the patch jobs to her HQ’s exterior would hold until the next day. Then she locked up and retreated back to her desk, all but collapsing in her chair and resting her face on folded arms. Only then did she allow the quiet sobs to steal her breath and tears stain her sleeves.

 _He isn’t dead._ She thought. _Not until I get a report confirming it._

Over and over she repeated that thought, like a rat in a wheel, but it did little to slow her tears or silence her muffled cries.

It was a polite knock at her door that eventually snapped her out of the loop. Her tears had dried at some point, letting her clean her face – as much as she could without using the facilities – and the sound jerked her out of the restless doze she’d fallen into. It took a second, harder knock for her to truly return to the present.

“Come in.”

“Ms. Weiss?” It was the Faunus – Claira, she thought her name was, but her foggy mind couldn’t recall for sure – carefully opening the door to step inside, offering a polite bow before continuing, long rabbit ears flicking slightly at the motion. “He’s stable, though still unconscious, and the doctor is uncertain as to when he’ll wake.” _‘If he wakes’_ was left unsaid, but heard nonetheless. “If you’d like, I can guide you there now. Or perhaps once you’ve had a chance to rest, Miss? It’s past dawn, now.”

“No! No, I’ll go now.” Weiss leveraged herself out of the chair, some level of energy returning at the mostly good news. “Lead on, Miss.”

Offering a small, though sincere, smile, the Faunus turned and stepped out of the office. After returning Myrtenaster to her hip, fingers brushing the Rose emblem in the process, Weiss retrieved Melodic Cudgel from atop her desk and followed.

**-0-**

Quietly thanking Claira – it _was_ her name, she’d remembered correctly – who simply offered an understanding nod before leaving, Weiss stepped into Roman’s room. The first thing she noted was all the machinery encompassing the head of his bed, and the oxygen mask hiding his face. Her heart leapt to her throat at the sight. _It was too close._ Her pulse fluttered again. He was one of the few people she honestly cared about – _loved –_ and she’d nearly lost him.

That terrified her.

But he was alive, and healing. All that was left now was to wait.

So wait she did, seated in a chair by his side, as her mind finally returned to the things she’d set aside in the chaos of conflict the night before. Doing so brought an unpleasant realization to the surface: The SDC must have been behind it. The whole thing had been too organized and, if not for Roman’s sly diversion and then Penny’s – albeit late – warning she would have been _in her office_ when the attack had hit.

Skilled though her people might be, but they were office workers not fighters. A sudden attack from well armed – at least from the average citizen’s standpoint – would have been utterly devastating.

Roman had to have been the reason for their absence, getting them out of the line of fire just as he had her, and who knew what else he had done to thwart planned Huntress assassination. Had he not intervened, clearly having known before hand, many of her people and possibly even herself would have been lost and that _hurt_ , because that meant what she’d dismissed as merely petty, antagonistic gestures from her father were instead a serious intent to _kill her_. His own _daughter!_

 _How…how_ could _he?_

At odds they may have been, but they were still family. Didn’t that mean _anything_ to him?

Even in her mind, the question felt plaintive and broken. She’d never hated her father. Detested his polices, yes; chafed under his punishing hand, yes; and even actively defied him, but never once did she truly cross over into hatred towards him.

And never had she thought that he hated _her_ , merely her attempts to flourish away from the SDC’s shadow-

The quiet ping from her scroll – the tone she’d set for messages from Roman – echoed softly in the nearly silent room and drew her from her thoughts. Opening it almost numbly, she clicked the attached file and began to read.

Her eyes widened as a slow rage simmered in her gut.

The file – or rather, file _s_ – contained an itemized list of bank transfers and a summary of various operations meant to sabotage the FSI in discrete ways. Some little more than inconveniences and otherwise mostly harmless, while _others_ …

Well. Clearly Roman had personally seen to the more malign attempts and conveniently forgot to mention it to her. As he had failed to warn her of the Raid.

“Always with the mysteries, Roman…” She lamented, tone laced with anger as she continued reading. Or skimmed, rather, opening files at random to get the overarching picture. She’d worry about finer details at a later point. What she saw now were not simply written reports but _photographic evidence_ detailing the SDC’s subversions. Roman had been _exceptionally_ thorough and detailed in compiling them. Some of the accounts she recognized, minute issues she could match dates to and had handled without issue, others she hadn’t had a clue about.

But one thing stood out that offered a slight relief: her father had _not_ tried to kill her, but some of his board had apparently gotten ambitious. Her father hadn’t changed, but the men under him were clearly under the impression that removing her would gain them favor.

Even without an in depth reading there was a great deal of information available, laying out all the targets and opportunities she could possibly want for exacting revenge. Maybe it was her friendship with Roman over the last few years, or perhaps the potential had always been there, but Weiss thought she might relish taking her pound of flesh for the attacks on what was _hers_ – which included Roman, whether he knew it or not – since she’d begun Fallen Snow Incorporated.

That her potential retaliation would severely hurt the SDC, and her father by extension, was mostly an afterthought. Either through immediate retaliation or by leveraging it as blackmail to deter future acts of aggression. She’d have to discuss it with Roman when – she _refused_ to think ‘ _if’_ – he woke.

But…

Weiss turned her gaze to his slack face, wincing at various tubes directing various fluids into his veins and the washed out pallor of his skin – low lighting or not it was still obvious – and felt her heart twist once more. She’d have to confront him, ‘confess’ to him – _Dust damnit, Penny! –_ soon. A definite soon. After he woke up, in fact. No more nebulous time in the abstract future as she’d been telling herself for months.

She’d almost lost him, and if that had happened before he was at least _aware_ of her feelings for him…. She hadn’t lied, back in the stairwell, she believed – honestly believed and not simply ‘thought’ – that she wouldn’t survive losing him as she’d lost Ruby.

“I love you, Roman.” Weiss whispered, locking her scroll and laying it aside. Reaching out, she brushed her fingers across the chilled skin of his cheek, into his hair, then drew her hand down to grip his lax on.

“Please wake up soon. We…have a lot to discuss.”

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Before you might wonder: no, Weiss never once thought Junior or Roman might betray her.   
> She'd visited off-and-on with Junior for years, helping him when she could so long as it wouldn't put her against Vale PD, and she'd been working and visiting with Roman for around a year or two by this point. Both have quite happily put the past behind them. As Roman might say, "It was just business".


	16. What Goes Around

It was almost enough to make her wish for rain. So that things would finish as they started. Poetic, fitting. Vengeance sworn and achieved in the sky’s tears.

Practically speaking, though, rain would’ve hampered their sight, slicked their steps. It was dark enough now, lit only by a stray street light, that Blake was the only one of them that could see clearly.

Metal rang out in dusk’s light, Myrtenaster clashing with the laced parasol as Weiss drew their target’s eye so Blake could move into a flanking position-

A twist and a skip took Neo out of the would-be killzone, parasol twirling in a mocking salute. _Not today_ the jeering smirk seemed to say. Though, whether or not the words were actually voiced, Weiss wasn’t sure. Nor did she care as Blake acted anyway. Bullets bounced harmlessly off the transparent canopy but covered the flicker of shadowed movement.

Parasol snapping shut again, Neo ducked and twisted around to ward away the cleaving half of Gambol Shroud as it fell for her previously exposed back. Eyes flickering between pink and brown to finally settle on a matched white, the tiny woman wove away from the following barrage of blades with a mastery to bring an acclaimed acrobat to shame and forced distance between herself and her assailants.

Settling into a readied stance, Myrtenaster extended for flurry or spell, Weiss took note of heaving ribs and the hinted shine of sweat. She smirked. That last maneuver had lacked the speed and precision of Neo’s previous endeavors, fatigue finally beginning to catch up with their quarry.

Anticipation surged, sending renewed energy through her weary limbs. Vengeance, soon. Very soon. Yang, _Ruby_ …

“Give up.” Blake spat as she returned to Weiss’ side. She could see the weakness as well.

But the other merely smirked, eyes flickering back to brown-and-pink, twirling her parasol once more as it came to rest against her shoulder even as Weiss charged. Myrtenaster’s blade lanced forward to pierce the bead-wrapped collar-

Beads shattered.

So did Neo.

Weiss didn’t bother swearing, instead snapping her scroll open and letting the map come into view. There, the tiny blip of the tracer Blake had managed to plant near the beginning of the fight…

 _That way_!

Through the maze of alleys, the remnants of Team RWBY ran. Through the unfamiliar streets of the small manufacturing town, abandoned save for herself and Blake as they’d prowled the streets and buildings in search of – and while fighting – Neo. Every light was hazy, every structure blurred and indistinct, save for the path she followed.

There. The blip wasn’t moving. They were catching up.

Rounding the last corner into another alley, Blake on the rooftops high above, Weiss came to an abrupt halt at the sight of the broken form on the pavement. Moving closer, cautious of another illusion – behind her a phantom rustle of fabric over brick, a shadow-flicker of movement in the corner of her eye – but the tracer remained where it was.

Scroll put away, Weiss _looked_.

Head resting at an unnatural angle, surprise now forever locked on her face, Neo’s sightless eyes gazed skyward. Dead. But that was not what demanded Weiss’ attention.

On the ground, near the murderess’s head, lay Yang’s scarf – immaculate, carefully pressed and folded – with Ruby’s Silver Rose – polished, shining – resting on top over Yang’s Burning Heart. They seemed to glow in the hazy, disjointed world around them. Numb, Weiss saw her own hand reach out, fingers wrapping around silver-white, cradling it. Absently she heard the quiet padding of near-silent treads and then Blake was kneeling beside her. Carefully, reverently, the Faunus picked up the orange scarf.

Weiss blinked – was this a dream? It didn’t feel _real_ – and felt her gaze drift back to the body.

The world wavered, flickered, shrinking down until it was just her and the corpse. A transparent overlay fell over the scene.

\- _Shaking her head, she forced herself forward again without a backwards glance and happened across another body, this one also memorable not because of the bloodied hand but because the head was twisted clear around. Naturally there could be no doubt as to the cause of death. It was almost beautifully done, in a morbid sort of way that set the fine hairs of her neck on end.-_

They weren’t the same, not even close, but the _style_ of execution- Could it have been? Could it _really_ have been…?

She blinked again as the alley came back into hazy focus, with neither the corpse nor Blake in sight. Movement drew her eye to the alley mouth as Neo came into focus, wobbling, panting, an arm coming up to brace against the wall. All appearances abandoned. Weiss saw her look up, eyes flickering from white to pink-and-brown, saw her mouth something she couldn’t hear, and then _Roman_ was there.

Brows furrowed, face a mask of concern, he held out a hand. Weiss watched the not-quite-in-focus criminals join. Neo accepted his hand, let him grip her forearm as she leaned into him with a visible sigh, head coming to rest against the curve of his ribs as his other arm wrapped supportively around her shoulders – Weiss saw a glimpse of familiar silver at his waist, under his ever-present coat. Neo’s parasol dropped, coming to hang limply by her side, tip scrapping against the ground.

Roman’s mask shattered.

The hand gripping Neo’s arm tightened as a sinister grin spread across his face. His arm snaked around her neck as the tiny woman’s hand grasped at it – the parasol clattering to the ground – a white-eyed expression of utter, betrayed surprise drawing across the acrobat’s features as the Master Thief released her other arm to cradle the back of her head.

Weiss heard the _snap_ as gloved hands were jerked past each other. Loud and echoing unnaturally in her ears.

Expression flat, Roman let the body fall. Then he looked up, hollow-jade meeting sky-blue and Weiss froze. But Roman merely smiled, a softer, almost kind thing, before bringing a finger to his lips in a universal ‘ _shhh’_ gesture and a conspiratory wink before he knelt down.

A plain white kerchief – a familiar one – was spread across the ground. Next he reached into a pocket hidden in the lining of his coat and withdraw Yang’s scarf, still neatly pressed. It was placed atop the kerchief as Roman reached for his waist, hesitated, then unclasped Ruby’s emblem from its place on his belt and it too was laid to rest on the scarf. Then he stood and stepped away, slipping back into the shadows he’d first appeared from as _Weiss_ ran into the alley.

She saw her doppelganger move right past Roman’s hiding place without a backward glance. She watched Roman tip his hat in the doppelganger’s direction, nodding, then turned to vanish out the alley mouth as Blake dropped down near Neo’s corpse.

Shaking her head, Weiss looked again. Only her other self and Blake and the scene of _what-could-have-been_ were gone and Roman was back. And looking, not where the other her had been in her memories, but at _her_. Smirking, he offered one of his lazy, two-fingered salutes, and started to speak-

Weiss jerked upright, confused as her mind jerked and flinched at every sound and movement, glancing around hurriedly before placing where she was: Roman’s recovery room. Turning, her neck aching from the angle it had been in while she drifted through memories – through nightmares – she saw him. He was still unconscious, the monitor steady and reassuring.

Had it happened like that? She’d seen the man in her offices, his neck snapped, and he’d obviously – or so she believed – been fighting Roman. Had he killed Neo, as she’d both accused and thanked him for back at the tavern a few years ago? Had he kept Yang and Ruby’s icons? Kept them as trinkets? As remembrances?

Maybe... maybe she’d ask him, after he woke. Or... maybe she’d leave it to the past, to her nightmares, and simply move forward. She would decide later, she had already said her thanks for removing Ruby – and Yang’s – killer.

Wincing as she stood, Weiss realized, not for the first time, that staying in Roman’s room the majority of the week was not good for her – but unable to stop herself either – and readied herself to set out. She’d received a message from Ozpin earlier in the day saying to expect a pair of Huntsmen at her office the next day for a debriefing, and she needed to clean up. It was luck, she thought, that it fit with her decided pattern of going back on Thursday and spending part of the day Friday in her office.

Brushing her fingers across Roman’s cheek and through his hair again, Weiss left for home.

**-0-**

Working through the paperwork in her office one last time – knowing it done but checking out of habit – Weiss began setting it aside when she heard a polite knock at her door.

“That must be them.” she muttered, then in a louder voice, “Come in.” Looking up to the door, Weiss smoothed down her blouse – her coat on the rack beside the door, Myrternaster beside it – as the door the swung open, “Hello, I-”

Her greeting cut off upon seeing who Ozpin had sent, and she found a smile quickly resting on her lips. Before her stood Blake Belladonna, the woman in a looser version of her old ‘infiltrator’ outfit – as Ruby had nicknamed it – with Sun beside her in a yellow-and-denim attire that reminder her somewhat of Jaune. The two of them smiled back.

“Hello, Weiss. Sorry the visit is business,” the Faunus woman shrugged, “but Ozpin knew we were in Vale and I couldn’t say no to his request. How are you?”

“I’m glad it was you, I’d hate to be talking to strangers. I’m still expecting someone from the SDC to come knocking at my office with questions.” Weiss waved them in, gesturing to the pair of seats opposite her desk, “And I’m doing well, all things considered. At least the insurance will cover most of the damages. I might be able to afford it, but I’d rather spend the money helping Huntsmen than on fixing the windows.”

“I don’t know, the ‘open air’ feel would be kinda nice.” Sun grinned, ignoring Blake’s flat look, “Be kinda hard to keep the weather out though.”

“Indeed.” the CEO snickered, leaning back, “And not everyone is so enamored with the outdoors like a certain reprobate I know.”

“Hey, not my fault it storms more here than back in Vacuo.”

“Sun, jokes later.” the raven-haired woman fought back a grin, and turned her gaze back to Weiss, “Honestly, I can’t decide if I’m surprised you openly pointed out the SDC actions, or that you’re _not_ pointing out the evidence of Torchwick’s involvement.”

“We _mean-_ ” the blond cut in, the two of them sitting, “-you guys always stepped on his toes, ya’know, before he disappeared, and the FSI _does_ kinda reach into his territory of information and sabotage, well, ‘anti’ in your case. You kinda lucked out that that Junior guy is willing to work with you.”

Weiss stiffened, hiding it behind the act of straightening up in her seat, “If he still operates at all. There’s been no sign of him in over a decade. And I doubt he’d find my company one worth attacking.”

“Still, Sun has a point.” Blake continued, leaning forward with brows drawn down, “We broke up a lot of his operations back then, and I doubt he’d let that go. I think the SDC somehow drew him in, and got him to make the attack.”

“Aside from hearsay, there is no solid evidence of his presence during the raid, and the men attacking were all SDC or hired thugs.” Weiss hated lying to Blake, but there was no way she’d risk Roman’s life with Blake’s still evident dislike of the man, “It was clearly an attempt to redirect blame onto someone with a known criminal record and a... dislike, of myself.”

“Maybe, maybe not.” the Faunus woman frowned, ears twitching, “The reports even said there was damage from Flare ammunition, which Torchwick used.”

“Blake, Flare rounds are hardly an uncommon – let alone rare – choice of Dust ammunition.” Weiss maintained a measured tone, ignoring the odd look Sun gave her. “Cardin, Yang, and a half dozen others I’ve met, have all used it as well. Junior thinks it was a ‘blame game’, and both my information and contacts point to the SDC planning it like that.”

“That doesn’t mean much, coming from Junior.” Blake leaned back with a huff, “It’s known he worked with Torchwick before everything kicked off. The only reason Vale PD didn’t go after _him_ is because he turned around to help bring Cinder and her to tag-a-longs down. And if Torchwick _is_ active, he could be influencing your information net.”

“I personally vetted most of them, I know who to trust.” Weiss shot back, then sighed, “I know my people, Blake, trust me on that. And there are too many saying the same thing for _all_ of them to be compromised.”

“Okay, Weiss-y, no worries.” Sun cut in, shooting Blake a calming glance, “But’cha can’t argue the SDC did really good at copying him. Or a Copy-cat was involved, somebody who looked up to Torchwick, but was smart enough to stay away from cameras.”

“Fair enough.” Weiss grudgingly admitted, forcing her tone to sound accepting, and both Blake and Sun relaxed back in their chairs, “Regardless, a group within the SDC struck at me, and I aim to have them dealt with. I expect just as harsh a questioning from them once they-”

Her office door may or may not have shattered the sound barrier as it collided with the wall and stuck there in the wake of the orange-and-khaki blur.

“Weiss!” Without pausing for a response, Penny seized the other woman by her upper arms and pulled her into a bone crushing hug as a white clad figure stepped into the room behind her at a more dignified pace. “Oh, Weiss, I am _so_ sorry, is he alright?”

As one the observers of the passionate reunion blinked.

“Is who alright?” Blake asked, bow twitching as the ear hidden beneath flicked once.

Setting the thoroughly ruffled, and somewhat out of breath, CEO down Penny blinked at the Faunus. “Why, Weiss’ Boyfriend of cour-” Realization dawned in electric green as Weiss went very still in her loose embrace. “Um…oops?”

Weiss shot the Synthetic Huntress an annoyed, flinty look. “Yes, _very smooth_ , Polendina. Thank you _ever so much_ for keeping a secret until the _worst possible moment_.”

“A _boyfriend_ , dear sister?”

At the voice, Weiss jerked around, “ _Winter_? Are you two the ones _he_ sent?”

“Yes.” Winter gave a curt nod, looking Weiss over before offering a faint smile, “I know we don’t talk much, but I would have thought you would tell me when you found someone.”

“And you had the nerve to get upset with me when I didn’t mention my little one.” Blake teased, watching Weiss as the other woman began to look amusingly harried.

“I just... it never came up?” Weiss gave a lopsided smile, shooting a glance at Penny before turning to everyone else, “He’s... my main contact, my Partner. It was – it _is_ – more important to keep his cover than let you know... sorry.”

“Don’t be, Weiss,” Winter stepped over and, much to her sister’s surprise, pulled her into a short hug, “I should be apologizing.”

“Whatever for? I don’t care that father sent you and Penny.” Weiss gently stepped back from Winter, expression puzzled before changing to a smirk at the end, “And you’ve done nothing wrong. Penny would’ve told me.”

“For the actions of the SDC. Rather, those involved.” Winter frowned, glancing away, “I promise, however, it was not under Father’s orders-”

“I already knew that, Winter.” Weiss gently brushed aside the apology, “My Partner had an information packet on timed delivery, in case- in case he didn’t make it. It spells out who to blame in detail, in a rather concrete fashion.” she glared down at her fist, then forced her finger to relax as she looked back up, “They will be dealt with. And I’m not attacking the SDC as a whole, though I would appreciate fewer underhanded dealings undermining my ability to acquire supplies for the Huntsmen I hire and those I sell to.”

“I can’t make any promises, little sister, but I’ll be certain to convey your request.” Winter gave a nod, “Perhaps you could provide some of that information as well? We all know it will feel like blackmail, but we both know father would prefer that to an actual attack on the SDC.” Winter smirked, “Of course, what you actually do with that information is best left unspoken.”

“Rather pragmatic,” Blake spoke up, earning – and ignoring – a shushing look from Sun, who then rolled his eyes and grinned, “but you’ll still need to look out for any backlash from those same ringleaders.”

“Don’t worry about them.” the words came from both Winter and Weiss, but in very different tones. Where Winter was dismissive, Weiss sounded very much vindictive.

“If you say so, Weiss-y.” Sun smirked, nudging Blake and snapping her out of the surprised stare she’d been giving her old teammate.

“I do.” the CEO gave a firm nod, a single jerk of her chin, before glancing out of her office’s window to the front of the building, “It’s actually getting a touch late. What about dinner and finding places for everyone to sleep? I’m afraid I only have one spare room, or I’d offer everyone to stay there and avoid having to look-”

“Shotgun!”

Everyone in the room jumped at the sudden cheer, and Weiss focused on the source with a confused look. A look furthered by the lack of argument from Blake and Sun.

Penny blinked and cocked her head. “Is that not the proper term for this situation?”

Seeing her expression, Blake offered a placating smiling, “We already planned to have a room here, Weiss.”

“Still...” Weiss looked to Penny, “No, Penny. ‘Shotgun’ is for claiming the front passenger seat or copilot’s seat. And shouldn’t you be staying where Winter does?”

“No - _hic_ \- why would I?”

“It’s quite alright, Penny.” Winter smiled, “We’ll be coming back here for a proper interview in the morning anyways.”

“That sounds splendid!”

“This also would give me a chance to actually see my sister’s home.” Winter turned to Weiss, “The last time I saw where you lived, it was at Beacon under that jury-rigged bunk bed.”

“I told you it wasn’t as dangerous as it looked,” Weiss scoffed, but smiling all the same, “Is everyone ready? Just let me get my coat and sword, and I’ll lead everyone to the diner down the road. It’s rustic, but very good.”

As Weiss put on her bolero and settled it on her shoulders, she felt a hand gently touch the center of her back. Turning her head, she caught sight of the faint, sad frown on her sister’s face as she spoke and withdrew her hand, “You really did remove it... I suppose I always thought it was just shaded to match the new color, so those who saw you simply didn’t notice the snowflake...”

“No...” Weiss offered an apologetic smile, turning to face the room, “It’s enough we share Glyphs, Winter. Besides, this is my symbol now.”

Winter – and the others – followed Weiss’ gesture to the Silver Rose emblem at her hip, before she gave a nod and returned Weiss’ smile, “Yes. I suppose that is enough.”

**-0-**

After a couple hours over a shared meal with laughter at old stories, Blake and Sun set out to the local inn. With their departure, Weiss led her sister and Penny on the short path to her home at the edge of the town. It wasn’t a long walk, and one made in companionable silence, each person thinking over old memories or new information. Then, once the short tour of Weiss’ home was completed, Winter bid her sister and Penny a good night and stepped outside, closing the door behind her.

Taking a moment to simply watch the door, Weiss sighed and moved into the kitchen, putting away the few dishes she’d had drying from early that morning and then glancing at the fridge in thought-

“Is Mr. Torchwick alright?”

At the quiet inquiry, Weiss’s head snapped around as she gaped at Penny. For her part, Penny remained still as she met the other woman’s terrified gaze with her own earnest one. One void of anger or disgust-at-the-truth or judging of any sort, just honest worry and concern.

It took a moment for that to sink in.

That Penny was _not_ running to report Roman’s presence – and Weiss mentally cursed herself for having given _anything_ away, fatigue and stress or no – but was still _there_ , waiting patiently.

She swallowed thickly, blinking back a sudden dryness in her eyes as Penny’s threat – spoken in jest or not she honestly didn’t know – flashed across her mind. “It’s not forced, Penny. I…” Why wouldn’t the words come right? “I- I really do care- no, let’s be honest… I really do love him. Don’t- don’t take that from me…” And how she hated the way her tone was coming out as a plea rather than the demand she wanted.

Penny looked away and Weiss felt her stomach drop.

“He knew…” Her friend’s voice was low. “By the time I realized something was horribly wrong…you would have _died_.”

Now Weiss’ breath caught, she barely dared to hope.

“But…he got you _out_ , he kept you safe.” Penny looked up again, eyes steely with resolve. “I could not possibly let him be put to death now!”

“Thank you.” Weiss sagged, arm coming out to catch the counter beside her as her voice cracked. “I- I can’t…I thought I was going to lose him. All I could hear, as our medics rushed him off, was the same rainstorm from my nightmares… He hasn’t woken yet, but at least he’s healing, and…” she swallowed again, heedless of the tears starting to trail down her cheeks, her voice broken and shaking. “and I haven’t even _told_ him…that’s the worst part. At least Ruby knew I was her best friend. That I cared about her and everyone…”

Hesitating for a moment, Penny moved closer and put a slow, cautious hand on her friend’s shoulder. Weiss’ frame shook, her arms wrapped around her ribs like they were the only things holding her together and the faint keen in her tone was painfully obvious.

“I was finally getting everything settled. Not just putting myself back together, but moving forward. And- and then _this_ …” She looked up at Penny, eyes bright and cheeks wet, her bottom lip trembling. “I couldn’t live past another loss like Ruby, and Roman is _more_ than that… You- you can’t let anyone know. I know what you said, but you know what I’m asking for…”

“I know.” Penny nodded, her own eyes shining brighter than usual. “And I won’t tell anyone.”

“Promise me.” Weiss turned to her, steel and worry and panic warring behind tear-fogged eyes. “Say the words, Penny…please…”

“I _promise_.”

The strength seemed to leave her then, her legs folding as she slowly sunk to the floor. Tears fell in a steady stream now, quiet sobs escaping intermittently.

Face solemn, Penny followed her down, wrapping her arms around the other woman and pulling her into a loose embrace. Weiss’ arms snapped up in response, returning and tightening the hug as she pressed her face into Penny’s shoulder. “Thank you…thankyou _thankyou_ …”

**-0-**

Winter stepped away from the side of the house, staying out of view of the kitchen window and out of the light, heading back to the front of the house and towards the street.

It had honestly surprised her to learn that Weiss had not only found someone she obviously trusted a great deal, but one she had apparently told _Penny_ was her boyfriend. It didn’t bother her too much, not being told. As she’d said, they didn’t communicate often. In fact, it had only been around Penny’s first three-day disappearance that Weiss began messaging her on a semi-regular basis. She was definitely going to be asking Penny some pointed questions.

But... _Roman Torchwick_? she thought, mind scrambling for purchase. She’d have to tread carefully, if she ever confronted her sister, though hopefully Penny would at least be able to tell her how the two had met. From what she’d overheard just now, it was painfully clear Weiss cared deeply for the man. Enough to hide his identity, but not deny his existence – as her honest to Dust _boyfriend,_ no less – when questioned. Although, yes, the word Weiss herself had used was ‘partner’.

Really, she just needed to know if Torchwick was safe, and knowing Penny as she did she knew the Synthetic Huntress would’ve confronted Weiss about her safety around him. Penny’s strength, aside from the obvious, was her loyalty to her friends. If Weiss had been in danger from Roman, the man would not have been long for this world. But her mind refused to let go of the knowledge that, of all the men Weiss likely met over the last fifteen or so years, it was _Torchwick_ who had managed to snare her attention and affection.

Though, from what little she knew, it seemed he had not abused such loyalty, and had even worked to repay and protect it.

All the same, Penny was not going to enjoy the ‘grilling’ she would receive once they were back in the privacy of their airship and on the way back to Atlas tomorrow afternoon. But if things panned out...

Maybe she could start allowing Penny some leave time. It would be nice to have someone she trusted – and who Weiss trusted as well – be able to go to her sister and check in on them. She’d merely have to wait, and see how things went tomorrow.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A fun note about the previous chapter, for anyone who missed it: When Weiss used the PA system through her scroll, she never turned it off. 
> 
> Yes, that means anyone in the building could hear, if they listened, what Weiss and Roman were saying in the stairwell. Let's just say they find a great deal of amusement from letting Weiss assume they don't know who they just rescued, and thus who Weiss is visiting in the hospital.
> 
> "Let anyone know Torchwick is in the hospital, and that Ms. Weiss fancies him? Goodness, no. We all thought the Lady needed a friend, we know her team is gone."


	17. Admissions Laid Bare

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Roman wakes up, and Weiss makes good on her promise to her self to talk to him.
> 
> Or, try to. This IS Roman after all.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for the late upload; spent last night setting things up for a trip in a month and quite forgot Monday's upload. But! Here it is now!

While happy to have seen her friends – and _sister –_ for the first time in literal years, save for Penny, Weiss could not deny the vague sense of relief when they’d finally parted ways. The two days they’d remained had been full of laughter and good food, which, she would admit, she’d honestly needed, but it had also been two days more away from Roman than she liked with him still unconscious.

As she stepped into the near-silent room, Weiss was happy to see that the majority of the machines she’d previously observed – unused after the first few days but still present as a precaution – in the room were now gone. This had the effect of, in addition to reducing the ambient noise, making the room feel less confining.

Less like a soon-to-be morgue.

Walking over to Roman’s bed, she let the fingers of one hand ghost lightly across his cheek before combing through his hair, as she had done every time she came and went. Routine – more like ritual – complete, she settled into the chair beside him.

“I wish you’d wake, Roman.” A weak laugh huffed from her, accented by a fragile smile. “It’s rather boring without your snark, much as I hate to admit it.” Leaning forward, Weiss let one hand cradle her face as she let out a shaky breath. “No…I don’t hate admitting that.” She amended. “Dust, I’m pathetic-”

The scolding click of a tongue made her jump.

“Now, now…” Was the faint, almost inaudible rasp. “None of that…”

“Ro-?” Head snapping up, Weiss leaned forward and could just make out the faintest sliver of glassy, tired jade and at once felt her smile grow into something more sincere. “Dust, I’m so glad you’re awake. You had me worried.” A mock frown. “You reprobate.”

“S…ry.” There was a light crease to his brow as Roman visibly struggled for proper coherency.

“All is forgiven, Roman.” Weiss had to wince at the slightly broken laugh that escaped her. “I’m just glad you’ll be okay.”

A noncommittal grunt was Roman’s only response as he tried pushing himself up. Other than moving a hair higher up his pillow, he didn’t get far. Frustration flickered clearly through half-mast eyes even as coherency visibly returned.

“Easy, Ro.” It was only as she shifted that Weiss realized she’d been holding his hand, when she reached for the control to move his bed to a more vertical position. “You’ve been out for a little over a week.”

“-splains the stiffness.” The man murmured, giving up on adjusting position for the moment and instead electing to reach for the oxygen mask across his face.

After a moment’s internal debate, Weiss opted to let him and absently noted the faded scar running down his lips – as if someone had clipped him with something sharp – as the mask was pulled away. It was only thanks to Roman’s own currently wan features that made it stand out at all as Weiss couldn’t remember noticing it previously. For some reason it brought to mind her earlier dream, still vivid despite days having passed.

“Roman.” She began, not quite certain how to broach the subject. “Did you…snap Neo Politan’s neck? Then…leave Yang’s scarf and Ruby’s emblem? That… _was_ you, wasn’t it?”

“Mm?” Roman frowned slightly. “Thought that was obvious.” Though still faint, his voice was getting stronger.

“After seeing the man in my lobby after the attack, I suppose so…” Frowning, she considered it and her own reaction. Had her own subconscious registered the parallel’s before her mind had? “I just…wanted to know. Did- how did you come by their things?” Neo had made off with them, after murdering the sisters. Weiss had never expected to see her teammates’ icons again.

Then they’d stumbled across Neo’s own still-warm corpse.

“Why leave them with her body…for Blake and I to find?”

A shrug, or a weak attempt at one preceded his response. “She needed a place to hole up after…after dealing with Red.” It was telling how tired he was that his attempt at nonchalant fell far short of his usual standards. “Too much heat and I, evidently, have a weakness to strong women.”

“So…what? She just gave them to you?”

“Incentive.” Another almost-shrug as he pitched his voice to a clear faux-soprano. “See? I got rid of some pests for you. Ain’t it grand I’m around.” Face twisting he let out a disgusted scoff.

Weiss felt her own face twist into a sneer, memories of her fight with Neo – all taunts and mocking – blending with the glaring exaggerations from her nightmare. “An _ally_ outdoing team RWBY as your personal pests? I’d be insulted if I didn’t know how that ended.”

“Honestly? Your little gaggle was at least tolerable.” One unnaturally pale hand came up to gesture at the scar running down his lips, and perhaps the gesture was touched with exasperation. “She gave me this, by the way, don’t think I haven’t noticed you eyeing it.” A low sigh, jade eyes growing distant. “Needy little thing…” His hand almost drifted down, as if to brush his throat, before he caught himself and snapped back to the present and the hand settled on the mattress again.

Having watched the aborted motion Weiss met his eyes with a clear hint of worry. His offhand comment about ‘strong women’, coupled with her still-unspoken affection for him and the painfully clear understanding of just what he risked simply by associating with her… Well, it made for an understandable cause for concern. She wasn’t entirely sure just what it was about his penchant for finding such women – and worse, ones that would do him harm – that bothered her. Perhaps it was her own hubris that she wondered if _she_ were strong enough to have attracted similar attention.

 _Was_ she a danger to him? Beyond the obvious?

“Hardly.” At Roman’s snort Weiss belatedly realized she’d vocalized both questions. Dark amusement laced his voice. “I don’t have to worry about you killing me if I toe the line.” He paused, then looked Weiss dead in the eye. “Or maiming me when you’re bored.”

Horror clashed with indignation and Weiss only just managed to keep from yelling: “History aside, how _could_ I?” The faint note of raw _hurt_ was clear, as if the tone itself was offended it even needed to be present. “After the help you’ve given me- and the honest friendship…” She had to stop, arms hugging herself tightly.

“And that, right there, is why I don’t consider you a threat.” Roman murmured beside her. There was a weak rustle of fabric as he shifted in place. “Now that that’s cleared up.” He went on, voice going chipper. “What’ve I missed being holed up in here?”

Grateful to hide, if only briefly, from her own turbulent emotions with a strictly business topic, Weiss leaned back. “I managed to swap personnel smoothly, and get the offices repaired.” She recited easily. “There was a Grimm outbreak in the area, but I’d turned around when Penny contacted me with a warning-” Here she shot him a visibly annoyed look, to which the man had the gall to just smile at her. “-about the Raid, and had several Huntsmen with me.” Sighing, she shook her head, a small smile playing across her lips. “After that was more reports and the other day I had received envoys from both Beacon and the SDC – courtesy of Blake and Sun for the former, and Winter and Penny for the latter – about the Grimm incursion and my claims against the SDC. I’ve since been visiting you and taking care of things as usual.”

Roman hummed at that, quirking a brow as he looked her over. “Kinda hard to care for things if you don’t care for yourself, Sweetheart.”

It was then, after all the frustration, the stress – even after the helpful release that had been her break down in front of Penny – and low ebb of _fear_ at nearly losing the man she’d come to love, Weiss felt everything go tilt as her vision seemed to wash out into a near incandescent _white_.

“Bull. _Shit_.”

She didn’t need perfect vision to feel the Master Thief’s taken aback blink.

“I have never, _in my life_ , loved myself.” Weiss ground out, no longer able to stop now that the last semblances of her restraint had almost literally disintegrated. “But you? Oh, Dust.” A laugh, broken yet relieved as what she’d been wanting to say – yet never having the nerve to truly verbalize it – came spilling out. “I love you so much I forgot what hating myself _felt_ like. You might be a criminal, you might wear more convincing masks than me, but you _helped me_ when I was ready to drown in my work and- and _die_ out on a mission.” Standing, the world seeming a washed out series of vague, yet still distinguishable, outlines, Weiss began to pace as she plowed on with abandon. “You came when I called, after years of asking Blake and _never_ getting more than a ‘ _maybe next year’_ message. I offered you my services and you gave me direction. Release. It helped me, before and after, to see what was around me.”

Another circuit and she spun, pointing first at the now wide-eyed thief before waving at the window. “And when I’d completed the contract? You _let me go_. You didn’t hold me back, no, you _encouraged me_ to go make something. And I did. And even then you _continued_ to _be there_ , someone I could always depend on.” Another laugh, lower and freer as she smiled at him. “And on my bad days, you kept me company. You never once asked for anything you knew I wouldn’t give freely, and you’ll always have my respect for that. And…you’ve let me see behind your masks.”

Wrapping herself in a loose hug, Weiss looked away, voice growing soft. “You let me return the favor. I- it’s terrifying, and more than I thought I would ever see again. You _trust_ me, and I you completely in return. I’m not asking for anything more than acknowledgment because- because I _had_ to tell you…before I risk losing you again.” Color began fading, slowly, back in as she focused on him again, expression open. “I wasn’t lying, Ro, when I said I wouldn’t survive losing someone again. Especially not you.” Only partially without her consent, her face twisted into a scowl. “So don’t you _dare_ put your life at risk like that again. Don’t leave me out of the loop…”

Belatedly she registered the faintly amused expression on Roman’s face. One that she recognized. It was the look he always wore when there was some private joke she didn’t know the punch line of – or _was_ the punch line of. He’d worn it a lot back when she’d worked for him.

Folding her arms over her chest, not yet ready to feel hurt – this was _Roman_ , after all – Weiss leveled him with an even, narrow-eyed look. “Something tickling your funny bone, Ro?”

At that he arched a brow. “You could say that.” A flicker of discomfort crossed his face as he shifted to lie on his side, propping his head up with one hand.” You have to care for yourself-” He repeated, giving Weiss a pointed once-over, even going so far as to gesture at her mussed, unwashed hair and wrinkled clothing and the shadows Weiss knew were clinging below her eyes. “-before you can care for others. All the same…” He flashed her a cheeky grin. “Feel better now that you’ve gotten that off your pretty little chest?”

Blinking, Weiss glanced down at herself – when _was_ the last time she’d properly seen to her own hygiene? – before jerking her gaze back to his with an expression… not hurt or annoyed or even amused but something more…cautious. “You’re not dodging me on this, Roman.” Her gaze flickered at the tubes running from the IVs to his arms. “But I’ll wait until you _aren’t_ dosed up on painkillers and we have some measure of proper privacy. For now…” She straightened up again. “I’m going home for a shower and a change of clothes.”

Glancing away, Roman appeared to enter some sort of internal debate, gave off the impression of a shrug, and looked at her once more with a smile. “You realize there’s a perfectly good shower right there.” His head tilted in the referenced direction, smile never fading. “I could even join you, if you’d like.”

Weiss felt her face burn, knowing it had flushed a vibrant red, sputtering as she jerked her gaze from him to the utilitarian bathroom attached to the recovery room and then back to him. Finally, cheeks all but _glowing_ , she leveled a glare at him as she snapped. “Adult discussion _first_ , innuendos and ideas later. _Maybe_.”

And with that, she spun on her heel and took leave of the room, his guffawing laughter following her out.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Two more chapters, and THEN we'll see Roman and Weiss talk about her revelation to him here. She meant it when she said he wasn't going to avoid the topic with her.
> 
> As I'm thinking about it, I want to bring a little thing up within the context of the story: Names.  
> As one might've noticed, Roman almost never uses proper names. Like Yang he has a nickname for everyone, but unlike her he uses them exclusively. Red, Sweetheart, Ice Queen, Kitty Cat.  
> But Weiss was all about using actual names, until now. Until Roman. It's a sign of the weight she puts on what she feels for him that she is willing to call him Ro; a nickname, an endearment.  
> Names can be powerful, telling. Personal or family name? A nickname? A title? Each says something about both the speaker and the one being addressed.
> 
> On a side note: I know her name is properly spelled "Neopolitan", and shortened to "Neo". But I chose to have it broken up, "Neo Politan". I, and Zephyrus, both do this when we write her into a story.


	18. Dyadic Reign

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Handling the SDC, part 1

Whatever misgivings she may have, Weiss couldn’t deny that it was the best option. What would demand her stooping to a morally gray area, Ozpin could achieve through sheer force of reputation alone. Out in the open where everyone could see and with all the strength of his phenomenal power-base behind him, which is what was really needed if Weiss wanted the SDC Board _dealt with_. It _had_ to be done officially. Every ‘I’ dotted, every ‘T’ crossed, no matter how persistently a part of her screamed for blood.

Metaphorically speaking, of course.

Roman’s recovery – and the time spent waiting restlessly by his side – had allowed her the reprieve needed to approach this with the calm and logistical mindset befitting a woman in her position. So while taking her pound of flesh from the SDC (which she was _owed)_ would have offered her immediate gratification, doing so would put her – and more importantly, the FSI – in a very much dubious light. Something she honestly couldn’t afford at this point in time- or ever, if she were being especially honest. That such an escalation of force would undoubtedly push the Board to even more depraved measures in response was only further incentive to stay her hand.

For the moment, at least.

Were she still a free agent it would be a different story. She’d be free to indulge in open vengeance with little worry for potential repercussion. Likely with Roman’s full support, and not-so-private glee, if she knew the man as she thought. However, if she had picked up nothing else from her Companion, it was an appreciation for giving an enemy just enough rope to hang themselves.

It not only kept her hands clean, but left her in the perfect position to enjoy the resulting mayhem without reprisal.

The only risk this course of action posed was potentially exposing Roman’s involvement to the Headmaster. There was no feasible way for her to paint Junior as her contact and Weiss was reluctant to let Penny’s assistance be known. The former’s field of influence was restricted to Vale sans the odd joint venture, the latter was at the mercy of those monitoring her development and deployment. (Not that she let that stop her if she really decided to do something)

However, past experience strongly suggested the risk was negligible at best. Ozpin had let Ruby slide with giving Intel, after all, without naming her actual source on multiple occasions with a polite, if amused, smile and nod as he looked the other way while making use of the information. Then there’d been the time after her first business venture with Roman…

Point being: it was an acceptable risk.

Hence why she was now in Beacon Tower. Nursing a mug of dark coffee.

“-and that’s why I’ve come to you, Headmaster.” Weiss finished, free hand rubbing wearily at the bridge of her nose. “While any potential retaliation from the FSI would require we stoop to their level…They’ve proven to be a direct threat, a _physical_ threat, to my company and my employees. I simply can’t afford to let this go.”

“Sadly, ignoring a problem rarely makes it go away.” Ozpin sympathized, nursing his own drink. “And doing such can only lead to greater tragedy. As I know all too well.”

It wasn’t her place to drag up past mistakes. They were all guilty of them. That said… Weiss straightened in her seat, resolve in her posture. “Then the only choice is to determine the best course of action based on our foreknowledge.”

“Indeed.” Light overhead caught tinted glass, concealing Ozpin’s eyes from view. “I make it a point to learn from my mistakes. These days I find myself favoring more proactive measures, if indirect ones.”

Something in his voice, the slight lilt…

“ _Might help if you stopped to smell the roses once in a while–”_ That was a rather odd thing to cross her mind. That memory didn’t match the current situation in the least. So, pushing it aside and finding her curiosity could not be denied now that it seemed that Ozpin would take action, Weiss arched a brow. “Indirectly, Headmaster?”

A small smile. “My network has grown significantly since you last attended Beacon. To date it now encompasses a majority of Vale and a not insignificant stretch beyond.”

A _majority?_ Weiss thought. _Odd choice of phrasing…_

“My contacts and agents keep me abreast of, not simply the various goings of my Kingdom, but the ambient atmosphere clinging to it as well. Stretching from the lesser cities to the small settlements scattered across the land. That, I’ve found, is almost a more reliable gauge for trouble than hard information can be.”

A finger to the metaphorical pulse of Vale’s heart, both the city proper and the wilds surrounding it, a reflection of her own net if cast to a scale she could scarcely fathom. Stable though it was, and growing ever more cohesive as the weeks passed and the FSI’s reach grew, Weiss sometimes found herself under threat of floundering even with Roman’s support. There was simply so much one had to keep track of just to make sense of _anything_. And that wasn’t even going into the need to compare and sort fact from fiction and the very much necessary trips to straighten out any snags that may hit the line and otherwise keep things running smoothly.

One of her saving graces, other than Roman’s often grinning assistance, was that a good portion of her confirmed information (at least that which was relevant to the direct support of her Huntsmen customers) was filtered through Beacon, first. Something which… held far greater implications now.

“That’s a great deal of work for one man to juggle.” Weiss observed, leaning back to give the older man a curious look. “Especially one restricted primarily to one place.”

To this day it was rare for Ozpin to leave his tower. Yes, he made regular trips to the city, but those were scarcely more than a few hours at a time, and often with a period of weeks spanning between them. He didn’t visit his peers in other Kingdoms. He didn’t take missions. His very existence, it seemed, was irrevocably twined with that of the grounds of Beacon Academy.

What a suffocating life that must be.

“Such would ordinarily be true.” Ozpin agreed, honey-brown eyes amused. “Were I alone in this.” At her sudden undivided attention the man set his mug down, cane still held firmly in his other hand. “There is another, working from…I suppose you could say the other end of the spectrum. Where I am seen as a constant presence, an icon on a gilded throne for all the world to see, they are just the opposite. Never seen, but whose influence is clearly felt nonetheless. My shadow.”

While that little bombshell warranted a slow blink, Weiss found she wasn’t all that surprised. Really, it only made sense, and hadn’t she done the exact same thing when she’d sought Roman out for a business proposition? Working with shady, or even criminal, elements came part and parcel with the life of an effective Huntsman. And Ozpin was a _very_ effective Huntsman even if he presently did more administration than actual Hunting. Perhaps it was his reputation that made it difficult to imagine him partaking in that particular facet? He always seemed like the paragon of virtue and what a Huntsman should be. Willingly dealing with ne’re-do-wells clashed with that idealized image horribly, Qrow’s continued employment aside.

However, going from her own personal dealings with the esteemed Headmaster, it really wasn’t so far-fetched. Actually it only made sense considering his blithe willingness to bend the rules when convenient. To say nothing of his occasional bouts of… _playfulness_.

_He would probably get along well with Roman…_

Scary thought. Very scary thought. She was going to forget it ever crossed her mind.

“I’ve never met him.” Ozpin went on, heedless of her musings. “But I haven’t needed to, save for the odd proxy when critical information was involved, our efforts complement each other almost perfectly so as to render it a moot point. I hold the public’s eye, nurturing the peaceful calm which keeps Grimm from amassing at once. He works through the underworld and black market, silencing any rogue element that would threaten that peace.”

An odd sense of _familiarity_ niggled in the back of Weiss’ mind at the description. _No…he couldn’t possibly be…_

“Together, he and I are the Kings of Vale.” A flicker of wry humor in honey-brown eyes. “For all that I once tried to depose such titles.”

“ _I am the undisputed King of the Blackmarket and Lord of the Underworld.”_

A moment of shameless posturing, arms fanned wide and topped by a familiar cat-smug grin. She hadn’t paid it any real mind at the time.

“ _Though I feel I should inform you that in tracking the illicit funds it was discovered that their various accounts had already been emptied. By some opportunist capitalizing on the confusion, I’d expect.”_

Oh. Dust.

 _-That amused expression Ozpin had worn for the entirety of her report was not helping, either. That maybe-flicker of_ knowing _in those bespeckled eyes…-_

Blood turned to ice in her veins. It couldn’t- he couldn’t- but that _look_ , she’d seen it before.

“ _I doubt I’ll ever find the exact answers I’m looking for. So how about this –”_

Ozpin _knew._

She didn’t know how, but he did. Beacon’s Headmaster _knew about Roman_ - _!_

“I’m not asking for a name, Weiss.” The firm declaration cut right through the rising haze of panic. “As I said: such is a rather moot point.”

“Then…why bring it up now?” This didn’t make sense. It didn’t make sense _at all_. Weiss needed more to go on, confirmation that her Headmaster truly meant Roman no harm. It seemed to be the case, but… “You’ve obviously known for some time, perhaps even years.” When she’d first contracted Roman’s aid, the first step towards the partnership they now shared.

“I felt it was best to make you aware of the _real_ state of things, if my Shadow hasn’t already done so.”

Well. That was equal parts uplifting and alarming. The former because it looked like she’d be getting answers _without_ having to jump through hoops or decipher cryptic phrases. The latter because, well, what _wasn’t_ ominous about a statement like that? “And just what situation is that, Headmaster?” If it was as severe as she suspected then Roman was going to receive a royal tongue lashing so thorough his _grandchildren_ will be wincing from it.

Bless her hard-won composure, she still managed to project a sense of calm despite her near panic attack. She needed all the dignity she could muster here as she accepted the scroll Ozpin handed her. On its screen were a series of files.

Very familiar files.

… _I really shouldn’t be surprised._

Wordless, she passed the scroll back and feeling a sense of miffed offense.

“When I said I’ve taken a more proactive approach to things I was being perfectly literal.” Scroll sliding shut with a _click_ , Ozpin returned it to his vest pocket. “For months now, my Shadow and I have been engaged in a covert war.”

Had it been anyone _but_ Ozpin stating this, she wouldn’t have believed it. A _war_? One that not even she, and all her contacts, were aware of? Surely such, no matter how discrete, would have drawn in Grimm by the multitude. Someone _would_ have noticed.

Wouldn’t they?

“While we were fully aware of where our enemy lay – it was impossible _not_ to – we were restricted by lack of concrete evidence. Or rather, _I_ was restricted. My Shadow, on the other hand, was fully at liberty to harass and stymie our foe through whatever means he deemed necessary, until he finally managed to flush them out into the open for all the world to see.” A shift of his head let light glare off his specs, nearly concealing the way lethal amber eyes narrowed dangerously. “Now I may act without restraint.”

Hearing the words not spoken left Weiss numbed to the world around her, so she neither recoiled nor gaped. Instead she stared, not quite at Ozpin, as the implications sunk in and the whole near-tragedy at her headquarters took on an entirely new light.

Roman had… _let_ the Raid transpire? Nearly losing his life for sake of a mad gambit to give Ozpin a clear shot? Oh how she wished it didn’t make sense! He’d _used_ her. Used the FSI. Set them up as a stalking horse to cover his whole black ops campaign, giving a plausible reason for not only revealing the SDC’s actions but justifying any retaliation made by Ozpin. Such was a play truly worthy of, not one, but _two_ furious masterminds.

But she would have to worry about that later, at her own leisure, when she could pin Roman down and _yell_ at him. No matter how much it hurt, no matter how much it left a part of her bleeding and raw, she had to focus on the topic at hand. On the information she’d be hard pressed to get anywhere else. This was something she _had to know._

“You’re referring to the SDC Board…” Her voice was hoarser than she’d have preferred.

“Poison thorns festering in our collective sides.”

A more apt description of those haughty, greedy men and women Weiss could not imagine. But no matter how much they deserved what was coming to them, there was still a potential roadblock.

Two of them, to be precise.

“You’ll still face obstruction, just as I would, in the form of my _father_ …and General Ironwood.”

The ghost of a smirk touched Ozpin’s face. “Oh I suspect Jacques won’t be a problem.” It was so much something Roman would say that Weiss was taken aback. “As for my fellow Headmaster…” Amber eyes sharpened again behind tinted glass. “One last chance, he shall receive. Then it won’t matter.”

Ominous. Yet oddly reassuring.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> If you figured out Roman and Ozpin are "working together" before Weiss did, good job.   
> Though I should be clear: the two have not met face to face, and Ozpin doesn't know /for a fact/ that it's Roman. But he does know that "his Shadow" is the one helping Weiss.
> 
> And as I've not written a scene where they meet, nor one where Weiss openly tells Ozpin, It's not spoilers to state they don't encounter each other for several years; and even then it's because of Weiss, and Roman being the showman that he is.


	19. To Gloat

Jacques Schnee, CEO of the SDC and not-quite secret master of Atlas, sighed as he stepped into his office. Yet again his eldest had brushed off his increasingly persistent hints that she should settle down and he could only hope – should she never find a spouse – that she would at least choose wisely when selecting a successor for their Company. After Whitley… and Weiss _certainly_ wouldn’t be an option, by Jacques’s own actions to is ever growing chagrin.

After that mess with the Board – their sheer gall in making an attempt on his middle child’s life _infuriated_ him – there was about as much chance of Weiss taking over the company as a civilian surviving unarmed in Grimm Territory. Even besides that, she seemed quite… _secure_ in her place as head of Fallen Snow Incorporated.

 _As if the name itself wasn’t enough to make her views on the matter clear._ Jacques thought bitterly as he blinked at the unexpectedly dark space – and grimaced slightly at the faint hint of a used cigar – as the door closed behind him. He reached over to the manual switch. _If cleaning forgot to replace the bulbs I’ll fire the whole shift-_

Nothing happened. The room remained frustratingly dark. Until the terminals lining the walls flickered to life at once and a dark, unfamiliar chuckle broke the darkness.

Straightening at once, Jacques squinted through the headache-inducing lighting to try and pinpoint the source. Just barely he could make out the outline of a man – clearly a man, the silhouette lacked the traits of a faunus – and that was only due to the pale, likely white, coat they wore. The other was reclining behind Jacques’s desk, booted feet atop polished wood and Jacques belatedly registered the faint glow of the cigar he had smelled earlier. It cast a useless orange-tint across the man’s face but did not illuminate any usable identifying traits.

“Who are you?” Jacques barked. _Forget the staff, I’ll send the whole damn Security shift to the mines._ “What are you doing in my office?”

“Evoke the devil and he shall appear.” A faux-cheerful, and still unfamiliar, voice rang out.

There was a careless wave of the figure’s arm that drew Jacques’s attention back to the terminal screens. The initial static had been replaced by high resolution photos of the SDC Board. Profile pictures, Jacques realized, noticing minimized information beneath each image. Confidential information. Highly confidential. This could be a problem…

“Isn’t that how the saying goes?” The figure went on, swinging his legs off the desk as he leaned over the desktop, chin resting on now steepled fingers. Now electronic light illuminated a face Jacques had only ever seen in news reels and wanted posters even as, on another terminal, a new image popped up, one of a mutilated corpse in an expensive coat charred black and stained with blood in a room that seemed vaguely familiar. “I’d have to call that ‘evoking’, or perhaps _provoking_ would be the appropriate term, what do you think?”

 _Those damned fools_. Jacques grit his teeth, realizing what the other man was hinting at. “Roman Torchwick.” He ground out, hands clenching to fists at his sides. Some disconnected part of his mind absently noted how the High Criminal seemed to not have aged a day in the score-and-then-some years since he’d last made any sort of appearance. “If you know all that then you also know it was _not my doing_.” Many things, could others accuse him of – Jacques had heard them all and scoffed – but the one most ludicrous of all was the notion that he would approve the assassination of his own flesh and blood. “I may not approve of her insistent avoidance of me and the SDC, but I would never order the death of my children.”

It wasn’t as if he could sire more heirs, after all! His wife had not seen fit to grace his bed since Whitley’s birth.

“Oh _really_?” The ginger canted his head slightly, brows visibly raised beneath the brim of his trademark bowler and eyes wide with ‘innocent’ curiosity. “Funny, and here I was under the impression that you simply favored a slow, prolonged death to a quick and clean one.”

 _What?_ The nerve of this man!

“And just how do you come to that conclusion, Torchwick?” Jacques scoffed, leaning on years of corporate experience to not let his true ire show. Not yet. Stepping forward he moved to the halfway point between the door and his desk. Closer to the dead-man-walking. “And you did not answer my question: What. Are you here to threaten me?” The man had kowtowed to the _White Fang_ , after all. “Coerce me into giving you something?” A thief and a coward, seeking handouts from his betters and daring to bite the hands that would feed him. “Now that I know for certain you _are_ still active, you will eventually be caught once I begin sending men to hunt you down. General Ironwood would be _more_ than willing to support me in this.”

Unperturbed by this – even going so far as to _shrug_ at the threat – Torchwick simply hummed as he shifted to rest his head against his knuckles while gesturing absently with a now freed hand. “I simply looked at the evidence in front of me.” He spoke almost mildly, though there was a trace of _something_ to his voice that set the fine hairs of Jacques’s neck stand on end. “It was quite obvious.” He sat up abruptly, gloved hands clapping together loudly enough to make the SDC Head flinch. “But!” The man had the audacity to chirp, standing behind the desk. “Seeing as you aren’t nearly as astute, I’ll spell it out for you.”

It was, Jacques would admit, something of a struggle to beat back the red haze that demanded he throttle the High Criminal with his bare hands. It was because of this struggle that he did nothing as Torchwick sauntered with casual ease around the desk, rubbing out the cigar on one corner in the process, and snapped his fingers.

“Exhibit A.”

Around them the screens flickered to static, save for the larger central one. On that screen appeared a familiar image.

Shock shot through his anger as Jacques jerked, just barely internalizing a wince at how exhausted and…broken, his middle child looked. Worn and dusty clothing in no way appropriate for one of her breeding, to say nothing of her notably malnourished features.

Unable to help the knee-jerk reaction, Jacques took a half-step towards the screen. “Weiss…”

“Exhibit B.” A grand flourish made Jacques twitch again – where had that cane come from? – as another window was brought up and the criminal circled around behind the CEO. Jacques couldn’t find the will to care about his less-than-ideal situation, instead fixating on the listed series of dates and coordinates now on display. “You’re the consummate businessman, tell me you can figure _that_ out.”

Tensing on reflex, expression hard as his eyes roved over the information, Jacques stepped closer to the screen only partially so he could read it better. It was the work of moments for his business-trained mind to glean the facts Torchwick wished to share.

Ten years worth of mission logs, stripped down to the bare _when_ and _where_ , and all logged under a single name. Now he understood what Torchwick meant by ‘prolonged death’. Save for a sudden change in MO beginning a bare few years prior, his daughter had been, in an almost literal since, working herself to death.

While he disliked the necessity for it, Jacques was all to aware of human limitation and a man could only work for so long before they simply had to _stop_. Better a brief, controlled interval than a forced progression set to crash and burn when an employee finally succumbed to stress and fatigue, often in a very messy manner which lead to further delays as said mess required cleaning before new blood could to familiarize themselves with the progress and only then continuing on.

 _She dropped off the grid._ Jacques realized belatedly. _Right before the founding of FSI._ Suddenly he wasn’t sure if it was the _impersonator_ that had drawn Torchwick out of whatever hole he had buried himself in…

“Need I go on?” Torchwick breathed, right in his ear, stooping to make up for their differing heights as remnants of smoke tickled skin and played with short white hair. Then the man straightened and sauntered off back into the shadows once more.

“What’s your point, _Torchwick_?” Jacques ground out, spinning to face the other man before gesturing back at the screen. “Threatening my daughter? Trying to guilt trip me? I’m well aware I’m not the most noble or forgiving of fathers.” It chafed him to say it, but perhaps it was what the thief wanted to hear. “My position doesn’t allow for leniency!”

It was hard to tell in the gloom, but the tilt of his head implied Torchwick was rolling his eyes. Then a gloved finger came up to waggle in the CEO’s general direction. “There’s being strict and there’s being a bigot. Guess which one you fall under.”

“Then, please, _enlighten_ me as to your purpose here.” Though still angry, Jacques found it warring with a growing sense of _puzzlement_. “Or are you just here to taunt? Find some amusement in pointing out my flaws?” Something was off about this whole encounter. Clearly Torchwick meant no physical threat, he’d have done something already, and what he’d brought up so far didn’t make sense and why would a man of his infamy even _care_? “Besides, what is she to you? One of your last living opponents?” Now he sneered. “I’m well aware – and _proud –_ of her many successes at curtailing your antics, even before her second year at-”

Was Torchwick _laughing?_

“Oh hoh hoh! I can’t deny that I’m enjoying the chance to bring out down a peg. Or ten.” Torchwick chortled, teeth flashing as he grinned. “But that’s just a pleasant bonus.” The man straightened, cane resting before him with both hands settled on the crook as all traces of joviality vanished like so much smoke, suddenly all business. “You’ve been attacking her work in every way you can, petty and severe. You cannot claim to be truly surprised that your company attempted to _murder_ the very daughter you claim to be so proud of, not with how you’ve been edging them on!” The man settled back on his heels, an erroneous gesture of ease. “I’m here to see how you plan on dealing with the consequences.”

A sharp gesture from the cane drew Jacques’s eye back towards the screens as yet more windows popped up. Reports, some with photos, others without, most containing blood more often than not.

“The SDC is the life and will manifest of the Schnee family.” Torchwick’s voice was flat, all traces of levity now gone. “Do you _really_ expect me to believe your claims of innocence? That you are not at fault here?” Very deliberately, he lowered his cane and allowed it, and his hands, to settle behind his lower back.

 _Fault_ , Torchwick said. Yes, Jacques knew the fault lay at his feet – not that he’d _ever_ admit it to this man – even if the _blame_ was not. The vast majority of reports showcased on the screens detailed events he’d been unaware of, which irked him even further than the attempt on his daughter’s life as the Board had clearly forgot their own boundaries-

He blinked, little pieces slipping into place and he stared at the High Criminal anew.

 _My politically-blind daughter pulled contacts from_ nowhere _to support her efforts, when she’d eschewed any and all human contact for over a decade. After dropping off the grid for_ months.

“It’s _you_ …” Jacques breathed, then his eyes narrowed as he jabbed a finger at the other man. “ _You’re_ the ‘ _partner’_ mentioned in Winter’s report!”

A grin spread across Torchwick’s face. Sharp. Victorious. The man didn’t need to say a word, but spoke anyway. “Fallen. Snow. Incorporated.” He seemed to take particular pleasure in emphasizing each word. “A rather, uh, _fitting_ name. Wouldn’t you agree?”

A name with now farm more connotations behind it than Jacques really wanted to dig into at the immediate moment.

“What’s your game?” He snapped, dropping his hand to advance on the younger man. “Turn my own daughter against me?” There the red haze was, tearing at his already tenuous sense of self control. “She already ignores and, I suspect, hates me. What game are you playing at, Torchwick?”

Torchwick threw his head back and _laughed_ , a loud malicious sound that filled the room. Then he looked down at the CEO once more, still grinning. “One in which I am but a happy participant. A little game of _choice_ and _consequence_. To act, or not. I simply offered support where there was none to be had and it all snowballed from there with very little influence from me.” His visible jade eye curled until it was nearly shut. “You had your chance, and blew it. Quite spectacularly, I might add.” Fangs couldn’t have made the thief’s grin any more vicious. “Now she’s _mine_ in every way that matters.”

“ _What-”_ Jacques breathed. “-are you implying?”

“That _you_ -” Torchwick leaned in close until they were nearly nose-to-nose, the scent of expensive cigars pungent. “-got _very lucky_.” Straightening again one hand drifted up to settle over white-clad ribs. “I nearly died in that raid and it’s only serendipity and – dare I say it – _providence_ that lets me stand before you now but, if I _had_ died, well...” A shrug, nonchalant. “You, and all of Atlas, would have burned. I left more than enough evidence within her reach that all of Remnant would have lynched you and yours wholesale and salted the earth afterwards.” He was grinning now, bright and cruel. “Best of all?” The thief went on. “I didn’t actually have to _do_ anything. Not ask. Nor manipulate. Or even scheme. I merely offered, and she did everything else on her own.”

Jacques twitched again, mind going blank out of sheer self preservation.

Cocking his head, Torchwick watched him with all the idle curiosity of a Goliath observing a soon-to-be-gravel wall. “Do you see, yet?”

In spite of his own self control, Jacques felt his head shake. Not gently, not an implication of ignorance , but hard to the point of violent as denial set in. “No.” Anything to ignore the implications Torchwick was verbally slapping across his face. “More of your lies only backed by twisting recent events to your own favor.”

It _had_ to be that. It couldn’t be the not-so-little whisper even now twisting his heart in an alien way.

A dark brow arched, amused. “Now why would I lie-” The man asked rhetorically. “-when the truth is so much more crushing? After all, all the evidence you need is right there in front of you.”

The Head of the Schnee Family rocked back on his heals at that, mind reeling as it was unable – or more simply, unwilling – to wrap around the concept. That his blood would so devoutly renounce their heritage and run to a criminal’s embrace. Worse still: that Weiss had fled to _Roman Torchwick_. Inhaling sharply he stepped back, away from the realization. “You manipulated her! I refuse to believe she would _willingly_ accept you into her life, let alone to such an extent that she would avenge your death!”

Now Torchwick’s face hardened, his tone warning when he spoke. “Do us both a favor and stop belittling her character, lest I take measures I’m sure she’d be…upset by.” The hardness softened. “Besides-” A low chuckle. “-when it comes to manipulation… _I’m_ the one vulnerable to it, even if my manipulator is so innocently unaware.”

There it was. As point-blank as it could possibly be short of saying it outright.

Weiss was lost to him. Well and truly. Not only had she allied with a renowned High Criminal but she had… She had chosen him for her own, and Jacques couldn’t help but feel _proud_ even as the bitterness ate away at him. Jacques’ daughter was a true Schnee. One with the ambition and resolve to rise to power as Nicholas Schnee had in the very mines from which their fortune had sprung from, but even above that, she had claimed the loyalty and even the _devotion_ of a man as inhuman as the Beast of the White Fang.

“Get out.” The words were…tired. In no way resembling the demand it should have been. Stepping past the Master Thief, feet nearly dragging, Jacques all but collapsed into his chair, face cradled in his hands. One heart-beat. Two. Then he took a breath and straightened again- Stopped at the image now adorning the monitor: A silver Rose emblem set upon a sea of dark static. The ashen twin of the late RWBY leader’s own mark.

Back-lit behind it, flickering like a phantom, a grinning Jack O’ Lantern laughed.

At last defeat wasn’t so much accepted as it was impressed into place with all the subtlety of a sledgehammer. Gaze flickering away from the screen, Jacques me the other’s victorious face, head dipping – vanquished to victor – no matter how much it _chaffed_. But, truly, never had the Head of the Schnee Family been so utterly outdone. “The SDC will no longer interfere with Fallen Snow Incorporated.” Jacques declared, voice gravely, “Any further actions against her… The consequences are at her fiat. I wash my hands of the Board and their growing idiocy.”

Torchwick smirked, ivory curve of his cane tapping the brim of his hat in a mocking salute. “I’m glad we’ve reached an understanding.” Turning away, he made for the door, the displays – rose and lantern – flickering off in his wake and returning the room to near complete darkness. “Do have a pleasant evening.”

And then he was gone.

**-0-**

Being the only other Schnee in the building – the first time in months – it was only expected that Security had contacted Winter when an anomaly was detected in the power grid. Her father, for reasons as-of-yet unknown, could not be contacted. Which was concerning. So after directing them to wait the Schnee scion moved quickly towards her father’s office. Rounding a corner brought her to a mostly darkened corridor, lit only by faint emergency lights.

Her father’s office was at the other end.

Hand resting on Heathaster’s hilt – had a Grimm gotten inside? – Winter moved forward. As if awaiting her arrival, lights slowly began struggling back to wavering life as she stepped into the corridor. A virtual strobe of twilight-dim illumination that brought to mind old fears from her childhood when she would sneak out of bed to spy on some of the off duty security officers as they watched horror movies.

A foolish concern, she had long outgrown such, even if the atmosphere seemed to hearken for it. So she shoved such thoughts and comparisons aside and focused her attention forward.

It was as the lights waxed once more that movement caught her eye: another figure, heading away from her father’s office. The pallor of their coat nearly let them fade into the false twilight like a ghost. A phantom. But now that she was aware of them, she could track their progress.

Male, she identified as they drew closer to one another, clearly larger than she was and all but _sauntering_ at a brisk, but unhurried, pace. It wasn’t until he reached her, lights momentarily strengthening once more, and the gaze of a disinterested jade eye fell on her from behind an upraised white collar, that Winter recognized her. And he her, undoubtedly, as recognition flared briefly before, rather than reacting to her presence, he merely continued on his way.

The overheads flickered out again as Winter jerked to a halt, turning to follow the career criminal’s progress as she spun on the ball of her booted foot and marched off after him.

“Torchwick.” She called in a clipped tone. “A word.”

“On a bit of a tight schedule right now, I’m afraid.” The man called back without slowing. “Besides, your father _might_ need a bit of help.”

For a moment she almost hesitated, almost cast a glance back over her shoulder, but experience had taught her better and she continued after the thief. Though she did activate her scroll as she went, opening the connection to the security office. “Send a detail to my father’s office if you still cannot reach him. The…flux anomaly is moving through the building and I’m following it now, but will stop if I am needed.” Only waiting long enough for a confirmation, she pocketed her scroll before glaring, annoyed, at the man’s back. “I have time.”

Now at the end of another corridor, she at last saw Torchwick’s silhouette come to a halt. Droop, slightly, as he let out a heavy sigh. “Persistent.” She heard him mutter before he straightened again and spun to face her, hands folded neatly behind his back. Waiting.

“We _can_ keep walking.” Winter offered, if grudgingly, as she stopped a few feet away and folded her arms. “You can likely guess what I’m going to ask, considering I’m _speaking_ , rather than trying to kill or arrest you.”

“Oh?” A dark brow quirked up beneath the shadow of his hat. “And here I thought you were exercising your sense of self preservation, considering what your _sister_ would do should anything happen to me.” A nonchalant shrug. “After all, both alternatives ultimately lead to the same thing. The former would simply take longer.”

“Perhaps a bit of both.” The Atlas Specialist allowed. “Though I’m more concerned for her own state of mind over my personal health.” Pausing, she squinted slightly at the man her sister fancied. “I’m _very_ curious to know why you’ve been aiding her…and why you made such a daring move by coming here. To my father’s office, no less.”

Torchwick smirked. “Call it a whim.”

Tilting her head back in daring, though her eyes betrayed her own confusion despite their steely resolve, Winter studied him. “A dangerous impulse to follow. You seem aware of how much my sister values you, so why risk yourself?” If his earlier comment had been merely to throw her off, then assassination was likely not on his agenda. Not that it followed his preferred method of operation. “Gloating over stopping the attack on her? Surely a message would’ve sufficed for that.”

“Perhaps.” The man allowed. “But it just wouldn’t have had the same ‘ _oomph’_ as delivering it in person.” A pause, then a smug: “He’s not likely to forget any time soon.”

Confirmation that her father was, at least physically, fine soothed some of the tension that had been lining Winter’s frame. She couldn’t account for mental trauma, though, Torchwick had a reputation for a very good reason.

For a moment, neither of them spoke and the Master Thief seemed perfectly content to wait all night if that’s what it took. Emphasis on ‘seemed’, Winter suspected he was itching to make his escape and shake the dust off his time here. Still, no need to let him off the hook so easily, and she had a familial duty to see too. Who knew if she’d get such a convenient opportunity again.

“I overheard her breakdown when Penny guessed your presence.” She commented, trying for casual but suspecting the attempt fell somewhat short. “Despite how glad I am that she has recovered from the loss of RWBY, imagine my surprise and worry to discover that it was entirely _your_ doing.” Dropping her chin she fixed him with a narrow-eyed look, arms falling to her sides as her voice hardened. “Are you playing at anything with her?”

“…Define ‘playing’.”

Whatever higher powers that be give her strength. Winter wasn’t sure if his words were mocking or an attempt to dodge but they ruffled her hackles nonetheless.

“Surely you realize the risks _she_ is taking by protecting you. How emotionally invested she is in your continued well-being.” Here she paused to give him a clear opportunity to answer. Torchwick inclined his head in acknowledgment but otherwise didn’t respond to the lure. So Winter continued, more bite entering her tone. “If you are manipulating her, stringing her along only to toss her aside when she becomes too powerful or outlives her usefulness-” Her voice dropped, threatening and protective in equal measures. “-All of the Atlesian Military and SDC’s resources will be geared to _hunt you down_ , regardless of fall out. There will be nowhere on Remnant that could hide you.”

Not from her, not from Penny – whom would undoubtedly throw all her considerable guile and cleverness into the endeavor should Weiss come to ill-harm.

The dismissive snort was _not_ , exactly, what she expected as a response. “I’ve invested far too effort to see her shatter now, Ice Queen.”

Blinking, Winter folded her arms again at once confused and perhaps a touch indignant at the nonchalant brush off. “ _Are_ you invested in her? Or merely her achievements?” Eyes narrowing her voice hardened again. “What is she to you, Roman Torchwick? Surely you can guess what _you_ are to _her_ by this point of our dialogue.”

“Never would have guessed.” Torchwick deadpanned, rolling his visible eye. With a dramatic flourish he extended the arm holding his previously unnoticed cane. “She’s my business _Partner_ and I am nothing if not a _professional_. You have nothing to fear for her from me.” With that he tucked his cane back under his arm, spun on his heel, and continued on his way.

“While that is surprisingly comforting.” She admitted, honestly surprised by his sudden, if subtle, vehemence. Too vehement for a man such as he if all Weiss was to him was his business partner. “Is that all?” Voice softening, Winter continued to follow him. “I trust my sister, Torchwick, and I _want_ her to be happy. Or at the very least content. Dust knows the world seems to enjoy kicking her feet out from under her.”

“Surely my _file_ could tell you more. Not sure what else _I_ could say.”

Well if that was how he wanted to play. “Your file is rather lacking where the last fifteen years are concerned and Penny can only make educated guesses for the last four or five.” Catching up and matching him pace for pace, she spared him a glance. “Since you helped her with that debacle between the SDC and remaining White Fang dissidents, in fact. Penny informed me that _Weiss_ called _you_ and…you answered.”

“I did.”

“The next thing that Penny is certain of,” Winter continued as if he hadn’t spoken. “Is the raid on her headquarters. You kept her away and almost lost your life as a result. So I hope you’ll pardon me if I accuse you of at least overstating your ‘professionalism’.” A few quick, larger steps put Winter in front where she then stopped and spun to face him, drawing the man up short. Now she could watch his face. “I will stand by Penny’s judgment of you, and back my sister’s choices, but I want you to be _honest_ with me. What is my sister to you?”

Torchwick met her gaze evenly. “My Partner.” He repeated then, after a beat, added. “In business and otherwise.”

Eyes narrowed, Winter watched him for a long moment before finally relaxing. _It’s enough_ , she decided, _at least without Weiss being present._ Torchwick was, as he claimed, a professional. So, stepping aside she offered him a smirk of her own. “If you can stand it, allow Penny and myself to ‘catch’ you with her on our next visit within this coming month. I’d like to see the surprise on her face when I greet you cordially.”

Jade eyes blinked, then Torchwick’s mouth curved into a slow, mischief-promising smile. “Oh,” He purred. “Will do.” He touched the crook of his cane to the brim of his hat in a salute. “Always a pleasure.” And with that, he strode past her and vanished around the corridor, leaving the specialist to her thoughts.

She wasn’t ‘happy’ with him, by any means, not after the things he’d taken part in. _Of that I am certain_. She mused. _But…he is a…necessary evil._

Presently he caused little harm and, more importantly, made Weiss happy. And, if his gloating to their father had anything to do with Weiss, then Winter hoped it left an impression which would only benefit her sister.

 _Now…to convince Penny to share how she pulled off her secret getaway visits to Weiss._ Even after being asked to investigate the security breach some years back, she was no closer to finding the answer. To her superior’s ongoing consternation, not that she could really bring herself to care. Not in a case such as this.

One thing was confirmed, though.

Their eventual meeting with Weiss and…Roman, was going to be _memorable_.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Next chapter we see Weiss and Roman finally talk about what she said in the hospital room when he woke up.


	20. Accord

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for the delay, Monday was spent mainly with family and I quite forgot to update until I was already at work today [Tuesday]. But here it is, and I hope you enjoy it!
> 
> I know it's not long, check the end notes.

It had been a week, or roughly so, since she’d seen him at last leave the medical center. They’d both been busy afterwards, with him returning to his own organization and her running hers, so there’d been scant but a few messages passed between them. The topics involved revolving around their respective duties and ongoing coordination. She hadn’t minded, at least not at first, thinking that he would need some time to think on her admission.

Only after a few days had passed had she started to grow anxious. She _needed_ to know what he thought, regardless of what his final answer would be. Being left hanging – as Yang might have phrased it – was stressful and Weiss had needed to consciously refrain from snapping at those around her on multiple occasions.

Thus she found herself navigating through his local base, a relatively small installation not far from her own home. If an hour’s flight – directly away from Vale proper – could be referred to as ‘close’. So, stepping into Roman’s office, Weiss moved to stand beside the available chair set before the Mastermind’s desk and folded her arms beneath her breast as she waited for him to acknowledge her presence.

“Well, hello Sweetheart.” He greeted cheerfully, though he didn’t look up from his work. “Did you need something?”

“Hello, Roman.” Stressed though she was, being back was a relief, though not a complete one. There was still something to be dealt with. No more would she allow him to evade the matter. With a quirk of her brow, Weiss tapped a finger against an arm and fixed him with a neutral expression. “I believe I said you wouldn’t be dodging me. Over what I said after you woke up.” As if she needed to elaborate, he knew _exactly_ what she meant, which made the slow halt of his pen’s movement only reasonable.

Just barely she could see a jade eye flicker up in her direction for all Roman still didn’t lift his head.

“Oh?”

“Roman.” While patient, her tone was firm – if slightly demanding – and Weiss let a small, lopsided smile grace her lips. A crude caricature to what Ruby would bear, to be sure. “I’d like- I _need_ an actual answer. Your opinion. Your side. No more jokes and dodging.” If the hint of a pleas crept into her voice no one would call her on it.

Now Roman looked up. Canted his head. “And what is it you want to hear?”

“Honesty.” Was her immediate response even as she tried to ignore the sudden twinge behind her breast. “Just…honest words. I’ve laid out my cards, so to speak, and I can’t even think of asking anything until I…” Her voice tried to catch. Weiss pressed on regardless. “Until I know where you stand. Beyond how we’ve been thus far.”

An odd _twitch_ ran through the fingers still gripping the stationary pin before Roman suddenly set it down, muscles along his jaw visibly tensing as he looked away. Then he pushed up from his desk, eyes deliberately shadowed and Weiss felt the first stirrings of dread welling up in her gut.

“Not sure you want me to answer that, Sweetheart.” He murmured softly, stepping around and past the desk in order to stand by the mostly-shuttered window, his back to her.

“As long as you aren’t throwing my- my confession back in my face, or casting me away.” Staring at his back, Weiss hugged herself tightly, smile turning shaky even as her expression softened. “Then you needn’t worry about my ‘ _delicate sensibilities’._ I’m asking for honesty, Ro. Not another mask.”

For a long moment he simply stood there – oddly, Weiss could almost imagine him worrying at his lip as he thought – before he sighed. Long and heavy enough to make his broad shoulders visibly fall before he turned back to look at her once more. She had to blink, dread surging again at the hard look in jade eyes, but she held her peace and waited for him to speak. With conscious effort she made her arms relax, as she simply tilted her head in open invitation.

His ginger head dipped slightly, acknowledging the gesture before he spoke. “I can’t _feel_ love, Sweetheart.” Roman warned solemnly, one finger coming up to tap a gray-dusted temple. “I’m just not wired for it… or the other emotions people apparently need to be considered mentally sound for that matter.” If possible, jade eyes grew harder still. “Never have been. Never will be.”

Something, Weiss couldn’t even begin to name it, a shift of sorts. A subtle change offering the faintest gleam of hope despite the flat tone used. “I’m…I’m not asking for some _lovey dovey_ ‘boyfriend’, Roman.” She murmured, unable to help it.

Jade eyes narrowed. “I don’t love.” He repeated firmly, tone excruciatingly blunt. “I don’t regret, I don’t _sympathize_ and don’t even bring up the topic of ‘ _compassion’_. I’m no better than a Grimm, just ask Vale’s law enforcement officers, or, better yet-” A cruel smirk. “-ask Ironwood.”

At the name, Weiss scoffed, then glanced at the darkened window as she thought. “I know your masks cover…burned out emotions.” She didn’t need to be watching him to know he’d quirked a brow at that. “I know you don’t feel like I do, but you still _care_ about things.” She looked back to him, watching his face closely even as her hands quivered minutely. “I- I want to know you care enough about _me_ for it to be something similar to what I have for you. That…that misdirecting me and _risking your life_ during the Raid actually _meant_ something.”

The hardness faded from his features, leaving a flat expression on his face, if one tinged with interest. He cocked his head slightly, watching her.

“No formal speech, no mincing words.” Letting her arms fall, Weiss moved forwards before stopping just out of arms reach. “I love you Roman. Not pure emotion, though emotion _is_ there. Not burning desire, though I do find you attractive.” Fervently she hoped her tan was enough to hide the sudden warmth in her cheeks. “I _care_ , very much, about you. I want and _appreciate_ your presence. I enjoy your candor and wit. I fondly recall our conversations and shared naps and I want that to continue. I want it more often. “Glancing down, Weiss felt her teeth worrying at her lip before she dragged her gaze back to his. “But I won’t ask for more than you can give. I just want to know where I stand with you, in this.”

The flatness was gone, now, and in its place was a wide-eyed expression Weiss had no clear name for. One which made his already youthful face look years younger. _Dust_. She thought, feeling her blush darken. _I’m hopeless, aren’t I?_ Then, all at once, his eyes softened and that was all she had time to note before he, in but a single long stride, drew her flush against him. Arms warm and secure.

“I’ll give whatever you ask of me.” He murmured at last.

“Anything…?” Voice trembling and hardly daring to hope, Weiss brought her arms up to return the embrace.

“Yes.”

“Then don’t leave me, unless you really have no choice.” Her fingers dug into his back, tangling in his shirt. “Stay by my side, and I’ll stay by yours. Maybe we share a bed-” Her face must surely be glowing. How Yang would have laughed. Weiss ignored the familiar twinge and pressed her face into Roman’s chest, instead. “-yes, like _that_ , or simply to sleep in close company. That part isn’t important. I want a Partner and a Companion I… I long ago gave up on a spouse.”

His hold on her tightened as Roman buried his face in her hair. “As you wish, Love.”

At the unexpected nickname, Weiss felt as if all her tension simply fell from her, shed like so much water. She relaxed into his grip, though never loosened her own, as a shaky sigh escaped her. “Penny already thought I was dating someone.” She confessed, feeling almost dizzy with relief. “And…when they were visiting, Penny caught me alone in my kitchen and asked about your health. By name.” A soft laugh. “I…may have reacted, and proved her assumption correct.” She pulled away just enough to look up at his face, offering a smile that truly reached her eyes. “She approves, you know. She said: ‘ _he has been there when I could not. He saved your life.’”_

She could feel the reverberation through his chest as he chuckled. “What can I say? I’m just that good.”

“For a given definition.” Weiss chuckled in return.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I would've added a second chapter, since as I said this one is a little short, but currently the rest of the story is in beta and just waiting on my co-writer and editor. There might be a delay before future updates, as Zephyrus is still in the process of final edits.   
> But there will be more, you all are only waiting on edits and not the actual writing of future chapters.


	21. Warmth

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Here we go, one of the "short sweet" moments after their talk.

Stirring in the dark, Weiss’s bleary mind wondered why she was, in fact, awake when she could be savoring whatever amount of time was left before her alarm went off. A glance towards the window revealed a similar darkness, though perhaps there was a hint of pre-dawn blue touching the fringe of night black. Resolving to ignore the hint, she made to roll over. Perhaps laying on her other side would let sleep come once more.

It took two failed attempts before she realized she wasn’t alone in the bed.

_Roman…?_

Because really, who else could it be? More alert now, Weiss could note the familiar breathing behind her, breathing with the barest hint of the not-quite-a-snore she’d become familiar with through their shared naps.

Shifting a touch, this time to better investigate, she became aware of the warmth snaked around her waist.

An arm.

Roman’s arm.

Under the covers _with_ her.

A surprise, to be sure, considering that first meeting in that lonely tavern, but she wasn’t complaining. After all, she _had_ told him this was something she would like and had wanted. So, more aware of her impromptu restraints, Weiss carefully rolled to face him, allowing her legs to tangle with his in the process, bare legs brushing the fabric of his sweats. Settling again, she found she could just make out the outline of his face in the dark-

Stirring the man leaned into her as a long, sinuous stretch pinned her arms against her pillows almost by accident.

Almost.

Weiss gasped, startled, as the no-longer-sleeping thief nuzzled the pulse of her throat. A low hum sent pleasant vibrations across the bare skin.

“Hm…missed you.”

Smile tugging at her lips, Weiss found herself lifting her chin. “I’ve missed you too, Ro.” She murmured back, shivers running down her back as she felt his warm breath against her neck. “I’m not complaining, mind you, but…I _am_ surprised to find you in my bed.”

She felt, rather than saw, him blink, long lashes tickling sensitive skin as proper coherency returned to him. “Why?” Pushing up, hovering at arm’s length above her, he stared down at her for a long moment before descending again, his forehead coming to rest against hers as he purred: “I thought you _wanted_ me here.” Ginger bangs brushed lightly down the side of her face, beckoned by gravity.

“I do want you here.” Weiss hummed back, twisting her head around for a quick kiss. “Do not doubt that. I simply wasn’t expecting you to sneak into my bed. Though…” Amused, she considered the situation again. “Turnabout _is_ fair play.”

“So it is.” A hint of white betrayed his grin as, tilting his head in kind, he returned the favor before rubbing his head against hers like a great, affectionate cat. Naturally his fringe tickling her face was deliberate. A low thrum didn’t so much sound as it did reverberate right down to her bones and could not be mistaken for anything other than an outright purr as Master Thief settled down again, partially blanketing her, but without actually pinning her down. Gentle grips on Weiss’s wrists loosened and his splayed hands fell over her own as he relaxed once more.

Weaving her fingers through his, Weiss let out a deep, content sigh. “Stay.” The command was half a step above a whisper. “At least for breakfast. It’s one of my days off, today…”

“How can I say no to that?” He hummed sleepily, scenting her neck as he gave a close-mouthed yawn before letting out a heavy sigh of his own. A moment later, his breathing had evened out again.

“The safe answer to that question, Dear…” Weiss murmured rhetorically, the shroud of sleep closing in again. “Is…you can’t…”

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> There is this and another chapter, but as the next one is a decent length it'll wait until next Monday [giving Zephyrus more time to edit a few more chapters]
> 
> Also, here we have Weiss' second name for Roman: Dear.


	22. Betrayal

_Just a little longer…_

Pausing long enough to bark at the idiots about to break some of the merchandise, Roman had to smother the nagging impulse to start jogging. They were right on schedule, any faster might provoke the question as to _why_ he was in such a hurry. And it wasn’t like he was in any particular rush. He was a _professional_ , after all, and he’d take all the care needed to insure the job he was hired for was done right the _first_ time.

Incompetent help aside. Taurus actually thought these clowns could win his precious _revolution?_ The prospect was a laugh in and of itself. But at least keeping them from blowing them all to the moon gave him something to do.

Completing yet another circuit, he began a new one. A hard look in just the right places convinced those he eyed that, no, they did _not_ have to drop their cargo four feet to the hard ground, and the innocent postures they tried adopting merely made him roll his eyes and give them another look, thumb caressing the curve of gray metal.

_There, they should be sufficiently chastised for…another ten minutes._

By then he’d be starting another circuit and thus available for another refresher course. Now. Those idiots over there looked to be the type to break thousands of lien worth of goods and just shrug it off. Maybe if he shot one they’d finally get the hint…

A flicker of pastel in his peripheral made him pause. He glanced over at his associate. “Neo?” _Problem?_

The petite woman just smiled at the nonverbal question, not bothering to sign back. Instead she just winked, eye flickering from brown to pink.

Some of the tension eased from his shoulders at that, though he was grateful for the gloves hiding his white-knuckled grip on Melodic Cudgel. Nodding curtly, Roman turned away and continued on his circuit. Decades honed instincts warned him that something big and expensive was about to take a sudden and drastic drop in market value if he didn’t step in–

Static. Everything flickered red.

Blinking, feeling vertigo drag at him, Roman looked down at the length of elegant metal sprouting between the front of his ribs.

_What…?_

A small hand pressed against the small of his back. The world _tilted_ as he slid off the blade, legs giving out as he hit the ground.

_Neo?_

Struggling to move, he thought he heard the scolding click of a tongue. He managed to draw his arms up, palms pressed against the ground by his head, but he couldn’t muster the strength to push himself up.

They _knew._

The realization left him chilled. How? How could they have _possibly_ known? He hadn’t breathed a word. Not a one. Not even in private. His resources were just as they had been, he hadn’t made any recent investments, nothing to give him away.

Yet knew they did. And _She_ had apparently chosen to take offense.

Light steps just out of his line of sight and this time he knew he wasn’t imagining that scolding click-of-tongue. Blinking back stars, Roman managed to leverage off one arm. Not to rise, the strength for that seemed to have abandoned him entirely, but to push onto his side so he could stare up at the one he thought was his partner, if not his friend. There was no remorse in those now-pink eyes. Not even a scrap of pity as she flicked red off her estoc and he felt his mouth run dry.

Gone was the polite, professional mask. Gone was the flicker of mischief he’d grown used too. In its place a look of _intent_ topping a vicious grin as she stepped by his legs at a sedate pace. They both knew what was to come, what She would demand.

His hand shot out, but Neo was faster. Melodic Cudgel clattered well out of reach.

Roman pressed himself flat, craning his head away from the needle-point now tickling the lump of his throat. Swallowing, he glanced between the blade and bi-colored eyes. Smirked. “You know–” He drawled. “–usually the ol’ in-n-out goes the _other_ way arou _urk_ –!”

Grin sharpening, Neo leaned fully on the hilt of the blade now pinning his side to the ground. Twisted, letting out a silent laugh of delight at the pained sounds that escaped Roman’s mouth. Then she twisted again.

He couldn’t see. He couldn’t breathe. Everything was bloody static sparking fresh fireworks with each rotation. Almost abstractly he felt his fingers curl, felt the bite of cold metal through the thick material of his gloves, but it stopped the lances, though the fire remained. Then the pressure eased, and he felt steel withdraw from his flesh and he gripped at the wound, though whether it helped or not he couldn’t tell.

Shape and form sluggishly returned to his vision. “I- if you-” He managed. “W-wanted attention s-so bad, y-you could’ve a- _asked_.”

She was still grinning, one hand coming up so he couldn’t help but see it. Snapped her fingers.

Footsteps. Lots of them.

Shoddy vision or not, pain or not, he knew what was going to happen next. Desperation pushed him above the pain, though his side still screamed as he curled, arms coming up to wrap around his head. Something impacted hard with his uninjured side and more pain flooded.

“D-don’t _, please!”_

Impact to his shoulder, weight pressing down, his cheek scraping against dirt.

“ _Neo_!”Aura, he needed his Aura-

Dusted treads came down.

Pain.

**-0-**

He was being carried.

Numb, vision swimming in and out of a hazy red-black mess, he could at least recognize that. Each step sent red-hot spikes of pain right through that cold numbness, starting from the through-n-throughs Neo had decided to grace him with and branching out to, well, everywhere else. It _burned_ , a steaming prod-iron thrusting into him again and again. He wanted to scream. He wanted to curl up and not move and try and coax the agony away.

Neither option was available to him.

_They’re slowing, why-_

_Ooomph!_

His lungs failed, driven to uselessness by the impact. Above the ringing in his ears, above his own hacking coughs, he heard laughter. And the clatter of metal across dirt. But it was far away, indistinct as he struggled to _breathe_ …

It passed. Eventually. Letting higher thought creep cautiously out of cover.

 _A ditch._ He realized numbly. _They just tossed me…into a_ ditch.

It was an even draw between which was worse: being cast aside like so much rubbish, or that he was _literally_ ‘face down in a shallow grave’. Mortification rang true either way. The corniness alone would do him in if the Grimm didn’t first –

Not too far away, something howled.

_Oh. Wonderful…_

Grimm or not, pain or not, he had to get up, get out, and find some damn cover. And cover a ditch certainly was not. Not when all anything with the case of munchies had to do was look _down_ –

 _Spawn of a rabid bitch!_ In the middle of pushing up on one elbow, he had to bite his lip to keep from snarling in fury. There, just peeking over the edge of the ditch, was the familiar curved handle of Melodic Cudgel. An insult – a damn _tease –_ hope just out of reach.

 _At least from here_. He allowed, letting anger drown out pain as he heaved himself forward. Maybe his legs weren’t responding yet, but at least he could move his arms.

But anger-induced durability was as quick to fade as it was to surge and he had to stop, heaving as he rested his weight on his elbows. Panting. Vision threatening to swim again as the bruises, and what he suspected-but-wasn’t-going-to-acknowledge-as potentially broken bones, demanded attention. He grit his teeth. _No helping it_. Clawing for purchase, tasting copper, he heaved himself up. The ledge was just above him now, he just had to-

Something _thumped_.

_Oh, what now…ah…_

There, sniffing along the bottom of a ditch some dozen plus yards away, was a Beowulf.

 _Great. Just_ great _._

Resting the whole of his weight against the incline, gripping his little handhold in a vice grip, Roman reached out with his free hand, ignoring the subtle spasms that threatened to make it lock up. Again he tasted copper as he stretched out as far as natural limits would allow him, inching higher.

Another howl, this one almost jubilant.

 _C’mon, just a little…_ Gloved fingers brushed curved metal-

Compact earth crumbled, he hit the bottom of the ditch. Hard.

_No._

Death loomed over him.

_This isn’t how it happened!_

Fangs shredded cloth and flesh.

_Ahhhhh!_

**-0-**

Roman jerked up, cry dying before it even left his throat. Here. Now. Chilled. _Not_ being shredded or beaten or...

His hand cupped his side, fingers brushing puckered scar tissue. Long healed over. No blood. The second piercing, higher up and between his ribs, was the same. Still his fingers drifted higher, ghosting across the whole of his throat. No noose, nor cord, nor any other means-to-strangle, not even a lingering bruise.

Some of the tension eased from him as he sighed. Still, he drew his hand higher still, brushing across his lips. Pulled it away to rub fingers and thumb together to isolate any dampness, any crusty flakes.

Nothing. Nothing but the lingering chill, the tremors echoing through him.

Fingers wrapping around his, drawing his hand away. Pressing it against warmth.

He looked. White. So much white. Not brown, or black, or even hints of white-streaked-pink. _White_. Framing crystalline blue rather than shifting pastels or burning embers.

 _Safe_.

The rest of the tension left him and he leaned into that warmth, pressing his face into it. Abstractly he felt his arms move to encircle the warmth. Here he had no need to fear. She wouldn’t pierce his flesh and leave him to writhe. She wouldn’t bring him harm or make him bleed. Here, he was safe.

Warmth and fatigue tugged him down once more. He nuzzled soft warmth, and surrendered.

“ _Weiss_...”

**-0-**

He wasn’t heartless, Weiss knew him well enough to confidently say that such assumptions were sorely false. No matter how burned out he may be, he still felt. Remembered. _Grieved._ His Bad Days were proof enough of that. She _knew_ he had nightmares to match.

She’d just never seen him in the throes of one.

It had been the stillness that had woken her. Some subtle change in the air that had registered as _off_. Between one bleary blink and the next she’d realized that Roman, sound asleep beside her, had gone utterly still.

He rarely moved in his sleep, she’d discovered. How he went to sleep was often how he woke up, and only a change in heat-source might – _might –_ coax him to shift. But this had been different. A _deliberate_ stillness, where you could hardly tell he was even breathing, the raw and desperate need to _not be found_. Except it wasn’t a complete stillness. One hand had clawed at the scar on his side.

The ‘gift’ granted to him by Neo, before the illusionist’s death.

And then he’d jerked awake, pawing almost frantically at the numerous scars marring his body, fingers dragging up in self-examination. His side, his ribs, throat, before finally brushing that pale line crossing his lips. Only then had he begun to still again. Still, but not necessarily calm. On edge, rather.

So she’d grabbed his hand, bringing it to a mark of her own – a ‘souvenir’ from that final fight – and he’d calmed. Immediately. Even with eyes still glazed in sleep, she knew he’d recognized her. Trusted her.

Looking down at the crown of his head, where it rested against her bosom, Weiss hugged him closer. She’d _never_ heard someone say her name like that. So warm, like she was truly something precious. Whispered in that place between sleep and awareness and impossible to feign as he’d settled around her, pressing close, before slumber claimed him once more and he’d finally relaxed.

She’d never heard him use it before. Ever. Always he’d favor one of the plethora of nicknames he saved just for her.

It burned. But in the most wonderful way.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm realizing now that I was not overly clear about what scar Weiss reacted to having it touched back in the first chapter, or which she uses in her counting to calm her panic attacks.   
> And which she draws Roman's touch to here.   
> Weiss has a second, smaller scar--courtesy of Neo--that crosses the top of the vertical scar over her eye. It's usually hidden by her bangs, and since it is smaller it's easier to miss.


	23. Union -part 1-

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Part one of two. "The Union"

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Roman teases but never pushes, Weiss realizes, so she'll take the lead.

Clad in a satin nightgown – a gift from Roman, one which she refused to guess where and how he came by – Weiss stepped out of her bathroom. Gently tossing her hair back over her shoulder, she moved down the hall towards her bedroom, though it wasn’t quite hers alone these days. Not since Roman had been joining her – at least when he was nearby – after their candid discussion several weeks prior. Such occasions were frustratingly rare, unfortunately, their respective occupations being what they were. Not that she was complaining, per-say. When they were able to share an evening Roman was affectionate and _genuine_ with her.

Though not above teasing, much to her chagrin.

Yet, it wasn’t quite enough. Weiss had been completely honest when she’d said she found him attractive and was willing to pursue the less… _naïve_ connotations to the phrase ‘sleeping together’. However, while she may be ready to advance, it was becoming increasingly clear that, at least in this, Roman would not take the initiative. Their first kiss and his whispered promise to her all pointed to the control _she_ now held. Control she had been careful to respect.

But patience was a virtue she only pretended – albeit convincingly – to possess. So when she saw him, sprawled on the edge of the bed leaving her customary space by the wall open for her, clad only in his shirt and slacks…

Well.

The dimness of the room did nothing to hide Roman’s startled full-body twitch as Weiss straddled his waist, though she hoped it did conceal how her cheeks were burning. She doubted it, given his preference for low-lighting, but she was allowed her delusions as a bleary jade eye cracked open to stare up at her.

Chin tucked, she gave him a coy smile. “Hello, dear.”

A blink. “Hello.” She could just catch the amused smile crossing his face. “Feeling frisky tonight, are you?” Slowly, he stretched out fully and Weiss could feel the slight tremors in his frame as he held it, like a cat, for one jaw cracking yawn before relaxing again, hands coming to rest on either side of his head.

An almost casual picture of surrender.

Planting her palms on his, fingers lacing together, as she pinned them to the pillow completed the picture. “You could certainly say that.” Weiss ducked in for a quick kiss before pulling away again. “More a matter of timing. And recalling that you don’t really initiate anything beyond whatever ‘limit’ I’ve set in previous…encounters.” And there went her cheeks again.

His smile broadened, a hint of teeth in the dark room, as Roman arched a brow at her. Tipped his chin up.

Blush darkening, Weiss offered a shy smile. “Unless you’re truly tired.” She offered, eyes tracing the pale stretch that was his exposed throat. “There is always the morning.” Here she paused, gaze flicking up to search his face. “You _are_ spending the day tomorrow, yes?”

“Of course.” He leveraged himself up on his elbows, their faces close enough that she could all but _feel_ his smirk. “I’m _all yours_.”

It was like something shifted in her mind, any lingering shyness evaporating as she stretched to lay flush against him, pinning Roman to the mattress as she pressed her lips hard against his and felt them part, yielding to her nonverbal demands. This close, she could see his eyes slide shut as he lay pliantly beneath her and Weiss felt a surge of heat surge from crown to core…

Did that growl come from _her_?

Yes. Yes it had, and she could feel Roman shudder in response. Not an unpleasant feeling.

Deepening the kiss, Weiss pulled her hands from his in order to comb through his hair, instead. After a moment she pulled back. Not far, their lips were still brushing, but just enough to speak. “Don’t play naïve, Ro. It’s embarrassing.” Was that? Yes it was. If she’d had any doubt as to whether she had his attention or not they were now thoroughly assuaged. “Certainly you know my intentions, but if not then here is a clue.” Shifting, she breathed her next words against his ear. “I think we’re both rather overdressed.” She watched his eyes slide open again – her own now fully adjusted to the dark, and perhaps bolstered by a touch of Aura – wide and almost innocent if not for the playful smirk on his face.

“You know that’s not _technically_ true.” He snickered. “But feel free to, uh, _a-dress_ the situation if it bothers you so much.”

Face warm from more than just a blush, Weiss gave a short snort at that and grinned in turn. Slowly, she leaned back until she was upright once more – relishing the faint tremor that ran through Roman as she did so – before hesitating a moment. Then, carefully, she reached out to the buttons of his shirt. Hands slowly traveling from collar, to chest, towards his lower stomach, his half-lidded eyes fixed on her the whole time. Weiss had to clamp down on the impulsive urge to just tear the buttons off and _have him_.

She managed to maintain her composure, barely, and settled for taking her time. As difficult as it was to hold herself in check, Weiss was very much aware that it was having _quite_ the effect on Roman, despite the patiently amused air he was trying – and would have succeeded if she couldn’t feel his subtle tremors – to give off.

It was as she was tugging the hem of his shirt free that a shock of white caught her attention. A striking contrast to his semi-open dark shirt and, while pale, Roman’s skin was still darker than her own. Curious, she reached up to brush unbuttoned fabric aside-

There, splayed across half his chest – in perfect mirror to the weeping red on his back – was a rose. White with blue shadows. The same shade as her own summoned beasts. Unlike the older red rose, this one rested amidst a nest of gently curling white vines which spanned the majority of his torso. Here and there leaves, outlined in the same misty blue, lay in place of dark and blood-tipped thorns.

Entranced, Weiss let her fingers trace curving ink, noting how they stretched and seemed to wrap protectively around some of his more brutal scars. Neo’s piercings, that terrible incision between two ribs…

A tear splashing across Roman’s abdomen drew her attention back to the present. In a detached sort of way she realized she was smiling as her gaze shifted to his. No words were exchanged, none were needed. Her partner was observant, and knew her well enough to understand. For a long moment they remained silent, though her hands continued to tentatively explore Roman’s exposed flesh. It was rather strange, she’d seen him without a shirt many times before, so why was it only _now_ that it felt so ero-

“For curiosity’s sake.” The ginger thief began casually, snapping her from her musings once more. “You’ve never been with a man, have you?”

“I- _what_?” Heat. From her face clear down her neck below the top of her nightgown. “Of course not!” Jerking her hands from his chest Weiss crossed her arms as, after a moment’s difficulty, she affixed the man with a weak glare. It failed a moment later and she looked away. “Never saw the appeal. Not if I didn’t love them.”

“Well.” In her peripheral she saw a slow, dangerous smirk spread across his lips. “In that case...” That was all the warning she had before Roman bucked sharply and _twisted_.

A yelp caught in her throat as Weiss felt the heat of Roman’s weight pressing her into the mattress, a strong hand pinning her wrists above her head. A gentle nip of sharp teeth against the bare skin of her neck and shoulder left her arching into him. A pleased hum sounded from the Master Thief as the clawed fingers of his free hand raked down her side. Hooked behind her hips. Drew them flush against his own.

“I’m just going to have to take _real_ good care of you, then.” He breathed into her ear, warmth misting across the skin.

Weiss shivered, heat pooling in her stomach and spreading from there.

“Of that.” She breathed back. “I have no doubt.”

**-0-**

Mind slow to recede from lingering dreams, Weiss blinked, wondering what had woken her. The first thing to register was the soreness. Only to be expected, though this was her first time experiencing the phenomena. But more encompassing was the feeling of contentment. And warmth. Pulled flush into Roman, her legs tangling with his amidst the sheets, Weiss smiled in the morning light before moving to sit up.

Roman’s arm held her in place. Firmly.

“You don’t want to get up.”

Weiss stilled, but more out of confusion than obedience. Her lover’s voice was husky with sleep, yet alert with a note of wry humor in his tone. There was no real warning in it, and she felt no threat in the room, so she twisted around to face him. “We’ll have to get up if you want breakfast, Roman. I can tell it must be after sunrise just from how light it is in here.” She murmured back.

“Be that as it may.” Jade eyes glinted, though whether from true amusement or something else Weiss wasn’t sure. Then Roman jabbed a thumb pointedly over his shoulder towards the rest of the room. “You _don’t_ want to get up.” A pause. “At this moment.”

Intrigued now, Weiss blinked up at him then shifted in his embrace until she could peer over his shoulder.

“Hello, Little Sister.”

_Eeeeep!_

Face burning, and belatedly realizing that the sheets had pooled well below modest level, Weiss jerked to yank them up. Tried to, anyway. She rebounded off Roman’s arm with the sheets still well out of reach and the man – damn his smirk, he was _enjoying_ this! – showed no inclination to help. Resorting to Plan B, she shrank down to hide behind Roman’s much larger frame.

“W- _Winter?_ ” So her voice was a tad shriller than normal, the situation certainly called for it! “What are you doing _here_?”

Hands resting demurely in her lap, the elder Huntress smiled from the chair beside the bed. “I can’t come to see you on your birthday?” Winter teased.

Mortified at being caught nude in bed with her lover – and by her _own sister_ no less – Weiss would have glared at her shoulder if she hadn’t been glaring at Roman, the man’s chest trembling as his composure cracked, ever so slightly. That did nothing to stop her voice, however.

“Why are you _in my bedroom?_ ” Dust damn it, her voice hadn’t cracked like that since she’d been a teenager.

A snicker escaped her lover.

“Well, it _is_ after eight in the morning.” Winter answered reasonably. “You weren’t in the living room. Or the kitchen. So I came to wake you.” Here the elder woman snickered, gaze flicking between the exposed Master Thief and the few strands of silver-white hair visible beyond him. “And Torchwick? I know I asked to catch you with my sister-” Another snicker. “-but this is _hardly_ what I meant.”

“Well it’s not like you were very specific at a time.” The ginger retorted, tossing a toothy grin over his shoulder.

“So you just pulled up a chair and _sat down?_ ” Indignation reached a crescendo, only to deflate suddenly as the little byplay sunk in like a bucket of ice water. “Wait- _what?”_

Roman blinked innocently down at her. “What, what?”

“Relax, Weiss.” Winter’s chuckle spared the man a sudden smack to the head for sheer audacity. Standing up, the Specialist politely turned away from them – ignoring the way Weiss reddened and pressed more into Roman in response – and making for the door. “I’ll be in the kitchen.” She called over her shoulder. “Just get dressed and come on out.”

“No, Winter wait _-_ ” The door clicked shut, leaving the lovers alone. Deprived of one target, Weiss fixed her attention on the other. “You _met Winter already?_ When was this?” She demanded, initial shock and embarrassment fading to be replaced with dawning horror. “How is she _not_ making a scene over this?” Her pitch was rising again as the situation really began sinking in. “Penny’s the only one who knows about you!”

“Well…I, uh…” Roman’s gaze slid to the side, not quite making eye contact with her. “ _May_ have run into her about a month or so back?” He offered. “While I was out on an errand?”

“Run into her?” Weiss echoed numbly. Incredulous. “She’s a capable fighter. As good, if not better, than me! Why was she being so- so…civil…”

Winter was in the military. The _Atlesian_ military. The _same_ military with ‘shoot-on-sight’ orders where Roman was involved. Yet it seemed that not only had Winter seen Roman – _twice_ , even – but he was unarmed and _in Weiss’ bed_ -

“I think that’s enough questions for now.” Roman hummed cheerfully, effectively snapping her from her thoughts as his hands snaked under her arms to drag her up with him as he climbed out of bed. Unable to help it, Weiss hiccuped a giggle. Then, in one fluid motion, one arm caught her under the legs and Roman straightened properly. Then he, without any regard for their lack of clothing, carried her bridal style towards the master bathroom. “Time for a shower. And maybe some fun if you’re, eh heh, _up_ to it.”

The quip finally succeeded in snapping Weiss out of her panicking spiral. Shaking her head she glared up at him. “Roman. Torchwick. My _sister_ is _in the next room_!”

In response, he planted a solid kiss to the crook of her neck. “So?”

It was truly impossible to stay angry, or terrified, in the face of such a lackadaisical attitude.

“You’re incorrigible.” Weiss huffed, relaxing a little to bring her arms up and around his neck.

Another kiss, she could feeling him grinning against her skin. “I try.”

“You succeed.” Against her wishes, Weiss found herself grinning as well and she twisted her neck to catch his lips. “Much to my chagrin.”

Now entering the bathroom, Roman gently set her down before moving towards the standing shower and the faucets protruding from the wall. Weiss watched him move, corded muscle flexing under pale, inked skin with each gesture, and felt her face burn. From the roots of her hair to the tips of her toes, she was certain, but she refused to shift or move. Not after last night.

Lingering ghosts of her modesty still screamed at her to cover up, emphasized by a slight tremor in her limbs, or to duck back into the bedroom, or do _something_ besides standing there fully exposed when all Roman had to do was _turn around_ -!

Which only added to a layer of frustration Weiss was only just becoming aware of. Yes, the lighting had been poor – at least for her, and this realization only further compounded her embarrassment – but they’d booth been nude and-

Shivering, though for reasons completely separate from the not-unpleasant temperature in the small bathroom, Weiss found her eyes roving over Roman again. He was probably going to get a laugh out of this. But then, he found a great deal amusing and the thought was an oddly calming one.

“Liking what you see?” Roman was smiling. She didn’t have to see it to know. It was all in his tone. “Maybe next time we should leave the lights on, eh?” Pulling his hand back from the water, he turned back to her. Weiss stiffened and felt her face redden again as he, very deliberately, before he met her gaze again and held it. “Well?” A polite, almost gentlemanly gesture towards the running shower.

The clear satisfaction in those jade eyes, a clear expression of his satisfaction of her form, did a very good job of shifting her embarrassment away.

“Oh?” Grinning, she _swayed_ towards him and relished his clear appreciation to the sight. “So _now_ you take the lead?”

His warm hand cupped the bottom of her shoulder, tucking her against his side as he matched her grin. “Ah, but I said I’d give whatever you asked of me.” Hand sliding down her arm, he gently caught her hand and guided her under the spray head. “I’m not about to force you to do anything.” His face grew serious for a moment, then lightened again. “And I’ll confess to not knowing entirely where your boundaries are. Yet.” Chuckling, he turned away long enough to retrieve the bar of soap before advancing on her, a sharp grin on his face. “I’m going to enjoy, uh, _proving_ them.”

“You certainly know how to both comfort and reassure me.” Lingering embarrassment – and perhaps a hint of shyness – aside, Weiss grinned back at him. Gently caught his wrist as she spoke again. “Exploring those limits, _together_ , is certainly going to be enjoyable.”

Still chuckling, Roman knelt gracefully before her, soap still in hand. “Oh, Love.” He looked up at her, eyes bright and playful. “You have _no idea_.”

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Zephyrus finished enough edits to this--rather long--chapter that I decided to divide it and post the rest next Monday. Consider this an early upload instead of a late one, so it'll be a bit more than a week til Part 2.


	24. Union -part 2-

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Part two of Union. "The Birthday"

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is the second half of Union, I hope you all enjoy it!

Finally decent – today a light-grey skirt with a pale-orange blouse – Weiss emerged from the bedroom and stepped into the hall. Taking a moment to adjust the towel wrapped around her hair, she moved to enter the dining-nee-kitchen area.

As to be expected, Roman had not failed to take care of her – and she blushed at how much innuendo the phrase now carried for her – and they’d both washed up while she’d fought down random giggle fits that had threatened to break out, well, randomly. _That_ had been nearly as embarrassing as being caught by her sister. She was in her thirties for Dust’s sake!

Not that she wasn’t against repeating it, however, and that only deepened the blush in her cheeks.

While dressing it was more happenstance than anything else that she caught Roman’s various ‘gifts’ in the mirror. A series of lovebites he’d left behind during his ministrations, subtle enough she hadn’t even realized they were a possibility until she caught them in the reflection. Not that she’d left him unmarked, either. Weiss was a little mortified by the array of nips and bruising she’d left dotting his chest and throat. She hadn’t known what a full-body blush actually looked like before then.

Of course he’d ensure they’d ‘match’.

It was only marginally annoying that three of her little souvenirs could not be hidden by her clothing, one behind her ear, another the junction of her neck and collar, and the last the tender dip of her throat.

_I’ll simply have to face any comments Winter makes._ She decided, a little resigned. Pausing just out of sight of the next room, Weiss waited for her cheeks to cool and she gently coaxed memories away so she could focus on the present. Then she strode forward with her head erect and shoulders straight.

Winter – still smiling, she noticed – was facing away from the hallway, in a seat angled towards the kitchen itself. There was a steaming mug of coffee in her hands, freshly brewed, and its present drew Weiss’ attention to the smell in the air. A syrupy-sweet scent to complement the brew’s own bitter scent.

Pancakes.

Tracking the scent, Weiss felt her mental processing briefly come to a crashing halt.

_STAND BACK!  
I’m Having a Creative moment!_

Above that cheerfully embossed apron was an oversized, _poofy_ chef’s hat. Between the two was a beaming Penny Pollendina.

“Many Happy Returns of the Day, Weiss!” The android saluted, oblivious to the half-flipped pancake rocketed upwards at high speeds. “It is good to see you doing so well this morning!” Greeting done, she lowered her marshmallow-mitts – and how she managed to handle anything, let alone the spatula grip, was a mystery – and resumed cooking.

“Um… Good morning, Penny. Thank you.” Blinking, Weiss stepped over to the chair across from her sister and sat down. “It’s good to see you, too.”

“Feeling better, Weiss?” Gaze flicking from the not-quite-disaster in the kitchen, Winter smirked at her younger sibling. “I’m glad to see you’ve been…enjoying yourself.” A pause. “Or would it be more accurate to say ‘enjoying _Roman’_?”

“Winter!” Reddening again, one hand coming up to cover her marked collar, Weiss jerked back in her seat. “That’s none of your business!”

“You’re my sister, of course it is.” Standing, empty mug in hand, Winter ambled gracefully towards the coffee machine. “And considering who you’ve chosen…you can’t really blame me, either.”

Weiss couldn’t deny she had a point. “Roman _did_ say you’d met once before…” She tried, watching her sister return with a newly filled mug. “How did you find out? I doubt Penny spilled my secret...” Weiss paused as another possibility occurred to her. “Unless you already had evidence pointing towards him. And we’ve been exceedingly careful-”

“You left your kitchen window open.”

What wind- _oooh._

“I may have been skulking about-” Ducking her chin, Winter couldn’t quite meet her sister’s eyes. “-hoping to hear something of note. After all, Penny already knew. And since your mysterious ‘boyfriend’ had apparently been injured, I suspected she would bring him up again once you were in private.”

“Oh…” Weiss hummed mildly. “And when you encountered him?” She pressed, guarded. “I assume you settled at least some of your doubts…” Had she not…Roman likely wouldn’t still be alive. Master Thief though he was, against a trained soldier and Huntress he’d stand maybe as much of a chance as he had against Blake when the Faunus was armed with raw Dust cartridges. Namely: not much at all.

“After a fashion. I couldn’t really judge without seeing both of you together.” Now Winter’s smirk returned. “Though I will admit to not being _entirely_ surprised by what I found earlier.”

“Yes, well…” Blushing, Weiss cleared her throat and looked away. “That was a bit more recent of an advancement. I-”

A sudden yelp had Weiss turn in time to see Penny standing in a mortified scrunch, partially cooked pancake flopped over her chef’s hat. A glance upwards revealed the doughy print on the ceiling where it had been sticking. With an embarrassed giggle, the Synthetic Huntress gently removed her hat and carefully peeled the pancake from the fabric, electric green eyes flicking between the oven and Weiss’ general direction.

Turning back, Weiss made to continue the discussion, only to stop at the sudden – and very uncharacteristic – blush on her sister’s face. Almost as uncharacteristic as her wide, mirth-filled eyes. Perplexed, she turned again to follow Winter’s gaze. Stopped. There, just exiting the hallway, were her lover. In a bathrobe. Nothing _but_ a bathrobe, and a barely secure one at that. In fact it was so loose that she, and anyone else with functioning eyes, could see nearly each and every one of her marks on him, clearly the source of the proud smirk on his face. Roman was _obviously_ loving the attention.

Weiss felt a sudden flare of jealousy that anyone other than her could see him so lacking in clothing. Of course that flare was abruptly followed by a matching blush on her cheeks.

Grin still in place, the man sauntered over to the table and claimed the chair to Weiss’ right. She couldn’t help but note how the robe never shifted more than necessary and always _just_ preserved his modesty.

_It’s intentional._ She realized. Roman was never one to care for such trivialities, but he loved a good show almost as much as he enjoyed displaying his trophies which, Weiss could admit, could certainly be seen as such. He _had_ earned the place of being her first – and only – and she was well aware of how the male ego viewed such a ‘victory’.

Of course. He could also be daring Winter to make a comment.

And comment she did. “A bit daring, Torchwick.” Leaning back in her seat, the elder Schnee folded her arms beneath her breast. “Planning on staying in with my sister for her birthday?”

“My dear, whatever did you get that idea?” Roman responded pleasantly and Weiss felt a flicker of indignation begin welling up- “There’s no _planning_ about it.” And the indignation sputtered out. Appeased.

“Another whim?” Quirking a brow, Winter visibly surveyed the inked vines curling across his chest. “I see Weiss has left more than one kind of mark on you.”

Urk.

“Winter!” Weiss hissed, blushing.

“So nice of you to notice. She seems to have a knack for it.”

“ _Roman-!_ ”

_WHAM_

Everyone at the table jumped at the sound.

“Breakfast. Is. Served~!” Penny straightened up from the oversized and overly- _filled_ plate she had just deposited on the table. “Bon Appétit!” In a flurry of movement Weiss almost couldn’t follow they were all served up. “They are made with buttermilk, chocolate chips, and lots of bananas!”

From the corner of her eye, Weiss could see Roman eyeing his stack with a rather nonplussed expression, dark brows arched almost to his hairline.

“Thank you, Penny.” Blinking at her own stack and sparing a glance at her sister – who only smiled – Weiss looked to their Huntress-turned-chef with a genuine smile crossing her face. “It looks, and sounds, delicious.”

Penny beamed at the praise before returning to the kitchen area long enough to retrieve several large jugs of syrup, setting them around the table in convenient reach. Then, after pausing long enough to survey her handiwork, penny retreated to fix up the battlefield- er…to _clean up_ the dirty dishes she had left behind.

As was her preference, Winter forwent syrup and simply picked up her knife and fork. Interesting, what was likely ‘Winter’s syrup jug’ was placed at arms length from the older woman. In contrast, Weiss’ own jug was just within polite reach and Roman’s was practically sitting on his wrist. The last bit was odd, and held her attention even as Weiss poured a small amount atop her own pancakes before taking up her own utensils.

Roman, she knew, didn’t have much of a sweet-tooth, generally preferring to forgo sugary foods all together, and the pancakes alone looked sweet enough even without bringing syrup into the picture. Would it throw him off eating? Weiss herself was starving and doubted he was any less hungry than she was- er.

_What’s he doing, now?_

Brows still at his hairline, Roman carefully unscrewed the cap of his jug. Then proceeded to pour the entire thing over his pancakes.

Weiss wasn’t the only one who’s jaw dropped at the sight. “Roman? _Dust,_ I thought you hated sweets!”

“Mm?” And that was a rare, honestly puzzled look on the Master Thief’s face. Then his gaze flickered away as he focused entirely on his breakfast with an unusual gusto.

“Oh he _loves_ syrup!” Penny chirped from the sink, elbow deep in soapy water. “Honey, too. He just doesn’t eat much of it.”

“And how did _you_ know that?” Weiss demanded, still staring. Maybe she should shake her head as her eyes appeared to be stuck.

“I asked him.” Penny sounded a little surprised, as if the answer should have been obvious.

Pancakes well on their way to sogginess and now sitting in a lake of syrup, Roman set the jug down and started cutting out bite-sized stacks. And perhaps he was smirking as he at the first large bite, but Weiss couldn’t tell for sure.

“ _When?_ ” No. She was _not_ whining after the near constant train of surprises this morning. Nope. Not whining _at all_. “Is everyone going to be meeting my Companion before I can even think of introducing them?”

“A bit sticky, but otherwise excellently done.” Roman called out after swallowing. “Haven’t had these in _decades_.” Another bite. Then he glanced her way. Swallowed. “She got my code from your scroll.”

“We’ve been Pen Pals ever since!”

“Basically.” Between one bit and the next, Roman looked to her again. “And I think it was a couple weeks after the Raid that she first messaged me.”

_What?_ “Penny!” Okay, maybe she _was_ whining. Just a bit. She caught Roman’s eyes, maybe a touch shaken. “Why didn’t you tell me? It would have been nice _not_ needing to plan meetings with both of you around everyone’s schedules…”

“And watch you fret and fidget worse than you already were?” Roman retorted, pointing a skewered triangle of pancake in her direction. Then he chuckled. “Besides, it’s not like you can really ‘plan’ around My Little Hacker there, anyway. She’s a wild card to shame other wild cards.” He paused, fork halfway to his mouth, suddenly thoughtful. “Except Red. _No one_ topped Red.”

“No. No one can…” Shaking her head to dislodge the welling nostalgia, Weiss fixed Roman with an annoyed look before turning an apologetic one towards Penny. “Still, I already knew I could trust Penny not to tell. But… I guess it wasn’t complete. And for that, I’m sorry, Penny.”

“Your concern was perfectly vindicated.” Penny shrugged off the apology. “As, technically, I am under legal obligation to report his whereabouts should I come across him. I won’t of course, I _did_ promise, but the risk was valid.”

“You still stress over a bit too much, Weiss.” Winter spoke up, offering a comforting smile as Weiss turned to her. The smile shifted to a smirk as she nodded towards the synthetic Huntress. “And Penny has an ‘out’, if you will, through my knowing. As her handler, she fulfilled her obligation to report him by telling me what she knew – in his favor, I should add – when I confronted her.”

"Just how long have you known?"

“Since shortly after I came here on SDC business, investigating the raid.” Winter admitted with a shrug. “But it wasn’t until a month ago that I actually met Roman and, after a short conversation, asked that he make an appearance when I came here today.”

“Admittedly we may not have really hashed out specific dates.” Roman added, not looking up from his food. “Or times. This morning was unexpected, if hilarious.”

“Honestly, I expected you to arrive at some point during the day. Not be here preemptively. But that’s enough of that. Let’s finish eating.” Her piece said, Winter returned to her meal.

Grumbling under her breath a moment longer, Weiss relaxed and did the same.

**-0-**

After breakfast and as they were moving to the sitting room, Penny caught Weiss by the elbow to ask if she’d enjoyed her gift of pancakes. If there was, perhaps, a touch of anxiety behind the question Weiss certainly couldn’t begrudge her for it. She was touched she and Winter had even made the trip out, and was quick to tell the synthetic woman that she was very grateful and the food had been wonderful – prompting a cheerful “I second that!” from Roman – and that she hadn’t realized Penny could cook, let alone so well.

Unfortunate her father and maker had yet to create a proper way for Penny to enjoy a proper meal. Something about taste buds and incompatible programming…

In any case, they’d settled on the much more comfortable seating arrangements. Penny and Winter had taken the arm chairs while Weiss and Roman had claimed the sofa, the man’s feet kicked out and crossed at the ankles with his robe teasingly – but modestly, if only just – askew. Of course that only further cemented Weiss’ belief that the pseudo-strip-tease was an all-to-deliberate gesture.

Winter waited only a moment before returning to her feet long enough to hand Weiss a small case. “Here. I think she would have wanted you to have this.” Pleasantly surprised, Weiss accepted the gift and carefully let the top roll back on its hinges. Gasped, one hand coming to her mouth, as she saw the contents.

A small, eight-point-star pendant. Resting on a cushion of deep green. A gentle silver-white glow with intricate patterns spanning each point, base to tip, with a rich emerald stone complementing the cushion nestled at its core.

The sight stirred time-faded memories of a kind smile. A warm embrace. A loving voice.

_Mother…_

Carefully drawing the pendant from its resting place before looking to her sister, Weiss smiled. “Thank you, Winter.” Then she shifted to face away from Roman, holding the necklace over her shoulder. “Roman…help me put it on?” She asked, voice soft.

“Alright.” She felt him shift behind her as Roman accepted the necklace and gently drew it around her neck, hands ghosting over her skin. A quiet _clicked_ signaled the claps joining together, though he took a moment to ensure the pendant was centered before leaning back again.

Fingers brushing across the star which, to her chagrin, hung even with the lowest of her visible love bites, Weiss turned and straightened beside her lover. “Thank you, Dear.”

“It hangs nicely.” Winter complimented with a soft smile. “Any plans for the day, Weiss? Perhaps at least dinner this evening before Penny and I take our leave?”

“Honestly…” Sighing, she shifted to lean against Roman’s shoulder, then offered a shy smile. “I’d intended to spend the day with Roman…though last night was more spontaneous than planned.” Craning her neck around she shot him an amused look. “You are a terrible influence. You and your ‘whims’.” Naturally her lover merely smirked, not abashed in the least. Looking back to Winter and Penny, Weiss felt her smile grow. “It’s a pleasant surprise to have you both there. Only Blake and her family are missing, but if they could’ve made it…” Her stomach twisted uncomfortable and she knew it was a mistake to bring up her wayward teammate as grief, fear and anxiety rolled. “Well, they know less about the situation than I thought you two did…and Blake was never as understanding.” It hurt. So much. The last of her team, and she _couldn’t_ share this miracle that had grown in her life.

“And I prefer myself without any _more_ additional breathing holes, thank you very much.” Roman concurred with a snort, but one hand offered Weiss’ shoulder a comforting squeeze. Then he leaned over to reach under the sofa. “And onto better, brighter topics.” He deposited a wrapped box neatly onto Weiss’ lap. “Enjoy.”

Blinking, she gave him a puzzled glance before carefully unwrapping the box. Pulling the top open, Weiss peered in, then froze.

Inside lay a white leather collar – Roman’s grinning Jack o’ Lantern holding the dangling metal ring – with a matching leash coiled around it. Embedded in the collar, off center to the ring, was a tag engraved with ‘RBT’ and, below that in even smaller print, read ‘ _Property of Weiss’_. Settled beneath these two items were four sets of handcuffs and a small plastic bag holding a key.

No guesses needed what the key was for.

Feeling her skin flush from crown to collar, Weiss jerked her wide-eyed gaze to Roman. Her mouth worked, but nothing came out as she tried – and failed – to find words. Teeth clicking together as she snapped it closed, she settled instead on a mortified, imploring gaze.

“My. That’s…bold. And are those _your_ initials on the collar?”

Oh Dust, how could she have forgotten Winter was sitting _right there_?

“Of course.” Roman answered shamelessly. “Who else’s would they be?”

“Well, yours or hers?”

“ _Collar_ _her_?” It was a toss up between which word held more emphasis. Roman actually sounded _offended_ by the suggestion. “She’d turn me into a popsicle! Not that I’d try doing something like that to her, anyway…”

That was…oddly touching. “You’re not exactly tamable yourself…”

“Oh!” Penny perked up from where she was leaning over for a better look, electric green eyes bright. “Those are for Role Play, correct?”

“Penny. Don’t.” Weiss implored, voice weak. Oh for the ground to open up and swallow her.

Roman’s breath tickled her ear as he lowered his head near hers. “For you, I am.” He murmured, to softly for the other’s to hear, pressing a gentle kiss to the shell of her ear. Then he straightened again and turned his attention to Penny. “Among other things, yes.” He agreed, then glanced back down at Weiss’ still prominent blush. Smirked. “Admittedly, had I known you were so innocent, I’d have added a guide book.”

Ooooo, she’d show him ‘innocent’ and- wait, _what?_ “You wouldn’t _dare!”_

Blinking wide eyes, Roman just smiled sweetly. All innocence.

Narrowing her eyes in return, Weiss fixed him with a Look until a quiet snicker reminded her of Winter’s presence. “I’ll be sure to knock from now on.” The older Schnee teased, settling back in her chair. For a moment it seemed like she would continue, but then she gave a discrete shake of her head and apparently changed her mind. “Happy Birthday, Weiss. I’m sorry this is the first one in a long time that we’ve been able to celebrate.”

“We simply _must_ make it a tradition!” Penny declared.

“No reason why not.” Roman agreed.

Warmth thrummed behind Weiss’ breath and she blinked slightly moist eyes. “That sounds…nice.” Smiling, she relaxed back, feeling Roman’s warmth supporting her. This was the happiest she been in…a long time.

Just one more thing to make clear.

“But please,” She added. “Just don’t make a habit of inviting yourselves into our room. This morning was mortifying enough.”

**-0-**

Letting the door swing gently closed behind her, Weiss smiled as she noted Roman’s coat hanging from the rack. Taking a moment to place her own bolero beside it, she moved into the kitchen for a glass of water. It took her a moment to notice the bag on the table, handles tied in an obvious bow, so she stepped over and opened it-

“ _Roman!”_

Lounging on the sofa, scroll in hand, Roman had just enough to time to glance up and blanch before something solid _thunk_ ed off the hastily mustered Aura of his upraised forearms. A quick glance at the fallen projectile – a now somewhat dented book – and he peered around his makeshift shield with a deadpan. “I see you found your present.”

“I can’t _believe_ you actually went and _bought one_!” Weiss bellowed, stomping over to the bookcase to select a novel Blake had sent her as a belated birthday gift before sitting in the arm chair near his feet.

“I can’t believe you actually thought I _wouldn’t_.” He retorted, voice level if broken up by snickers, arms still upraised.

With an indignant huff, Weiss held her book higher. If asked she’d say it was so she didn’t have to look at Roman, though really it was to keep him from seeing her blazing blush.

For all the good it did, judging from his chuckles. Then Roman settled back again and refocused on the scroll in his hands and, much like a cat she often likened him to, proceeded to ignore her presence entirely.

Weiss tried to read the novel. She really did. But more often she found the herself sneaking glances at her Companion without really registering the words on the page. Though embarrassing to admit, it took four furtive glances – camouflaged behind her book cover – before Weiss realized the smirk on his face got distinctly more apparent after each one. It seemed her attempt at giving him the cold shoulder simply offered further amusement built on her initial reaction.

Sighing as she gave up the pretext entirely, Weiss considered the situation a moment longer before looking straight at him. “Roman…what would you like for dinner?”

“Mm?” Roman’s head came up, surprised. “Not really sure at the moment.” A shrug. “Whatever you’re in the mood for is fine.”

“Well.” Humming, she got up and rescued the guide from the floor – playing at nonchalant and knowing he wasn’t fooled in the least – though kept it at arms length between a thumb and forefinger. “If you think of something by the time I’m out of the shower.” She called back as she moved down the hallway. “Let me know.”

She could _feel_ his jade eyes on her back. “I’m sure I can think of _something_ I’m hungry for.”

Unable to suppress a shiver, she paused and glanced back over her shoulder. Offered a coy smile. “Appetizer or main course, dear?”

“I suppose I’ll just have to see how things turn out.”

Weiss hummed at that and continued down to the bedroom. It frustrated – and mortified her as well – that his choice of a book, which really did have ‘guide’ in the title, would manage to pique her interest. If only a little bit. Evident by the genuine surprise that had been on his face when she’d thrown it at him, Weiss could admit that she _may_ have overreacted. Just a little. Not that it changed the fact that he’d actually gone and gotten her the gag gift.

_He probably expects me to throw it out._

Hm…there’s a thought. What better way to get back at him than to _not_ act as anticipated? She might even read it at some point, if only to assuage her curiosity. Crude though it may be.

Sighing, she lingered long enough to deposit it in the bottom drawer of the side table – the top being home to Roman’s paired batons and trench knife – and set about getting ready for her shower and a relaxing afternoon.

Maybe she’d surprise Roman again.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Just a heads up, again, but as I've run out of pre-edited chapters any future uploads could potentially be delayed. But, like I said in the first chapter, this story /is/ complete and /will/ be fully posted. Just have final edits to clean it up.


	25. Harsh Critique

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Roman and Weiss discuss their perceptions of Blake.

It had been a long day at the office – funny how the deplorable phrase was now something she rather enjoyed, for the most part – one filled with annoyances and problems both big and small and, in some cases, utterly asinine.  Really it was like some people were just born without Common Sense – not so common, she was dismayed to learn over and over again – and how could they just _live_ like that?  Even her team had known better!

Usually.

Sighing, Weiss paused long enough to hang her bolero on the available pin before making her way to the living room to find her lover already lounging on the sofa.  Though forwarned by the presence of his signature coat on the rack, actually _seeing_ him still brought a smile to her face.  It was looking like, barring any unforeseen hiccups in their respective occupations, they’d have a nice weekend together. 

With Myrtenaster coming to rest beside Melodic Cudgel, Weiss set her bag down on the small corner desk and powered up the built-in terminal resting on it.  Then she turned back to the Master Thief, whom hadn’t stirred at her arrival.

“Roman.” She called, confident that he wasn’t as unaware as he seemed.  Such was a common facade for him. “Mind listening to me rant about the FSI before we settle in for the afternoon?”

“Rant away.” Roman answered, still not moving.  Or even bothering to open his eyes. The immediate response proving her correct.

Rolling her eyes at his lackadaisical airs, Weiss flopped rather ungracefully into one of the chairs.  “While I’m proud of how well it’s doing, I find myself chronically bothered by minor errors. Though, some of those can have rather large consequences if not caught in time, which I don’t always manage.  They’re not _major_ issues, I know that, but they irk me nonetheless.”   

It was _nice_ to be able to voice these irritants to someone who wasn’t an employee.  

“For instance: Accounting recently missed paying several huntsmen for services rendered, only when I checked the records I realized wasn’t so much negligence as it was the lack of personal available to meet exact deadlines.  I’m thinking of hiring a few of yours to expand that department, if you don’t mind losing them. I can always have HR vet a few, but I’m also wondering if I might need better delivery teams....”

Eyes narrowed in thought, she let her head rest against the back of her chair. “We’ve missed getting supplies to an outlying town _twice_.  I’m starting to think it’s the result of bias as the same pilot was involved in both cases.  I believe we’ve had complaints about him involving Faunus passengers when he’s diverted to pick-up duties, and I’m even more certain I’ve had Huntsmen complains cross my desk involving his attitude...only he’s been reliable with everything else…Maybe I could hire another ship and dedicate it to pickup?  Only that doesn’t solve the supply issue…”   

More stray details and prior thoughts welled up as she considered the situation.  “I’ve misjudged amounts for a few deliveries, and at least once sent the wrong items…” Oh how it chaffed to see those errors in hindsight.  They _should not_ have happened. “I might need to delegate someone to assist with that, much as I hate handing out my own work for someone else to manage.” 

Sighing, she rubbed at the bridge of her nose.  Not that it did much to soothe her budding headache.

“ _Dust_ , something _else_ for HR to handle– I might need them to hire additional help for themselves before finding people to fill those other positions…”

Sloppy on her part.  Very sloppy. She should have planned ahead better.  Staffing was _always_ going to be an issue when the FSI expanded and they had to cover a _lot_ of ground.  She should have started budgeting employees from the start rather than just hiring for specific jobs she was working on right then..

“On a...mixed note,” Weiss went on, mind now turning to other recent events. “I’ve been asked by a couple of outlying Combat Schools – more like clubs, really – requesting either supplies, sample weapon schematics, or veteran Huntsmen willing to assist in teaching.” Here she smiled. “I’m honestly surprised that we’re reputable enough that they even thought to contact FSI-” A frown. “-but that means _more_ delegation.” Something she was starting to realize she was _exceedingly bad at_. “I might try adding ‘ _instructing new Hunters’_ to the mission lists...maybe see if Ozpin would be willing to post them on Vale’s mission boards and let _him_ delegate it out from there.” 

Certainly that would be better than her trying to juggle that with everything else on her plate.  How she loathed giving subpar service to her customers for something as petty as insufficient skills at multitasking.  They deserved better than that and if she had to swallow her pride and ask for help then she _would_. 

“It could be an interesting mission for Second Years, or maybe Fourth.” Weiss went on, seizing that line of thought. “Widen their horizons, get a few more interested in returning to teach.” She chuckled. “Dust knows how Port keeps teaching, though Oobleck is less of a surprise-”

“Listening to you-” Roman spoke up suddenly. “-one would think your whole project was going badly with only minor bouts of ‘less bad’.”

 _How rude_.

“Nothing so dramatic.” Weiss huffed, rolling her eyes even as she turned a fond smile on him. “It’s going very well, I’m just noticing these issues because so much else _is_ going well.”  And it _was_ , FSI was flourishing more than she’d have dared hope. “We employ two full teams fresh from Beacon, and another Team from Atlas.  A welcome surprise that was, I must admit, considering our healthy mix of Human and Faunus employees. I’ve heard no complaints, so I’m not worried as of yet.” 

Save for that one pilot.  She should do something about that.  Did his overall competence make his attitude towards fellow employees – regardless of species – and their customer base acceptable?  Was that a precedence she wished to nurture?

Something to think about.  Later.

“And that’s not counting the odd lone, or paired, Huntsmen that work for us.” Weiss continued. “We’ve over a score of fighters on-call should something happen.  Like, say-” Here she shot him a narrow-eyed look, though it was softened by her grin. “-another Breach.”

Yes, that was definitely a smirk scarred lips. “Can never tell what sort of depraved acts a lowlife may commit.” Roman mused virtuously, eyes still closed. “They may do anything.”

“One can never tell.” Weiss agreed, laughing. “But it does mean we have more people to monitor.” A snort. “Some few are annoyingly like Wukong.  Showing up out of the blue with reports rather than scrolling in details.”

“Keeps things interesting.”

“I suppose.” A shrug, which Roman could probably hear in her tone. “But, speaking of Sun, I _did_ get a message from Neptune about FSI being known over in Vacuo.  Apparently he’s apprenticing a young couple in the southern regions and would like to know if we’d expand out his way.  It actually has me wondering if we should consider branching out to the other Kingdoms once I get the supply and accounting situations straightened out.”

Tapping her nose once, Weiss leaned forward in her seat and began gesturing as she spoke. “It would be a good opportunity, I think.  My only issue is not having sufficient contacts outside of Team SSSN and Blake, and I’m not sure I want to rely on them for scouting local talent.” A sigh. The situation was more complicated than it first seemed. “I’d rather not have to move people from Vale to work in Vacuo, it’d add too many extra issues.”  Alone such expansion would likely take years.

Fortunate, then, that Weiss didn’t have to handle everything alone.

“Mind getting some of your own people to help me along?” She asked her fellow conspirator. “I’d do the actual interviews of course, but knowing _who_ to contact would be helpful.”

“My men are at your disposal.  Just lemme know when you clear your schedule enough for a tête-á-tête.”   

That was a relief to hear. “Thank you.” Relaxing into her chair again, Weiss folded her arms. “Actually, that ties in with the current PR.  So far as I can tell, we have a rather high rating even among civilians. Humans are, of course, glad for our business be it purchasing from them or supplying them in turn.  Faunus are almost vehemently supporting us, mostly because of our equality – which Blake would be impressed by, as it’s an old pet-peeve of hers – but also due to the number of towns we’ve helped save via our own Huntsmen.  Between the two of us, we’re very well connected with the outlying population-”

Here Weiss trailed off, belatedly registering something _off_ about Roman.  Had he tensed for a moment?  What had she said to trigger that?  It wasn’t about Faunus or Humans considering he employed as varied a mix as she did.  What else could have-

Blake.  She’d mentioned Blake.  But why would that prompt such subtle disquiet?  It had been years since the two had been in the same country, let alone within shooting distance.

“One of those villages is almost pure Faunus, apparently by choice.” She went on, now focused almost entirely on her supine lover.  Best to test her suspicion and find out. “I wonder how Blake would view it? I doubt she’d say anything negative, it’s not like Humans are _avoiding_ the place.”

No reaction.  In fact, the complete and purposeful _lack_ of a reaction that her attention was drawn further considering his casual willingness to comment previously.  A nonreaction could be almost as telling as an outcry and Weiss had experience noting such, though the skill was not natural for her.  Whitley. Her Father. Various partakers of the occasions and parties back in Atlas, she knew how to recognize such when she looked for it.

Now she just needed to provoke an _actual_ reaction.

“I think she’d like it.  But we’re much closer to Atlas and its continued injustice and I _know_ she’d comment on that…”

“I bet she would.” The curt words were devoid of his previous good humor.

Weiss blinked. “Why do you say that?”

“Meh.” This time he gave a slight shrug. “Nevermind me.”

Oh no.  She wasn’t letting him brush it off that easily. “No, something bothered you.” Frowning, Weiss leaned forward in her chair, trying to pindown the source of her lover’s displeasure. “What about Blake and Atlas’ problems with Faunus made you speak like that?”

“It’s nothing, really.” 

His tone conveyed otherwise.  Weiss rolled her eyes. “Roman.” Her curiosity was aroused now.  Maybe it was Blake specifically? “I think we know each other well enough for you to realize I won’t just let it go.  We’re both equally fair with our employees regardless of their species and Blake’s always hated the injustices against Faunus-”

“So she’s always said.”

 _Oof_.  Well she wanted to provoke a reaction, not Roman’s fault that flat tone of his set the fine hairs of her neck on end for reasons she couldn’t yet identify.

“Why do you say that?” She blinked slowly and canted her head. “It _is_ true, I spent several years around her.”

Finally Roman opened his eyes, swinging his legs around to sit up properly as he fixed her with a serious look that did nothing for the poor hairs of her neck. “You don’t want me to answer that, Love.”

Now she knew why his tone unnerved her.  It was the tone of the High Criminal when he was weighing whether or not something, or someone, was too much trouble to continue humoring.  Or tolerating. A clear tone of warning for anyone with a working survival sense. But it was not directed at her personally, and Weiss was no shrinking violet to shy away from the dangerous man.  

She was a veteran Huntress, danger was not a stranger to her and she would not back down from this.

“I think I do, Dear.” She matched him, look for look. “We might be distant, but she’s a friend.  I won’t hold what you say against you anymore than I do your past. I’m honestly curious.” Her gaze softened and she held out a hand, inviting. “I”m quite serious, Ro.” Weiss gestured between them. “Something about Blake bothers you, and I’d like to hear it.” A pause. “I’m willing to bet it’s bothered you for some time.”

A slow, jaded blink. “You only now realize this?”

...Okay, she’d walked into that one.  “She doesn’t exactly come up in conversation much, certainly not in a way to garner such a blatant _lack_ of reaction.” Weiss pointed out. “ _Is_ it her claims to equality and justice?  She was rather adamant about it in Beacon.  Pursued it avidly, if I recall.”

Roman snorted at that.  Loudly. “Think we have very different definitions, here.” But the dangerous undertone in his voice was gone as he leaned back against the sofa. “Red’s constant do-gooding was avid.  Firebrand’s short fuse was avid. Hell, you setting up Fallen Snow was _avid_.  Kitty Cat and her ‘quest for equality’?  Not so avid.”

Finally they were getting somewhere. “How so?”

“Oh where to start, hmm…” An opening like that both was and wasn’t encouraging.  “Let’s go with the simple and then go from there: Justice.” Jade eyes met pale blue. “Kitty cat didn’t want justice.  That would imply a willingness to work through the proper channels. To let the authorities do their jobs. No.” Ginger hair waved back and forth as Roman shook his head. “What she wanted was _vengeance_.  More than that, she wanted a _vendetta_.” An upraised, glove-clad finger cut off Weiss’ intended rebuttal as Roman fixed her with a serious look.  “Notice how,” He went on. “Not once, to my knowledge, did she tell the police – or even your damn Headmaster for that matter – that something fishy was going on.  Instead she went to deal with it _herself_.” A sneer. “Rather poorly, I might add.” 

Canting his head he gestured with the same finger as a sly smile replaced the sneer. “Now: Equality.  I never saw much evidence of her really wanting that, either. First off, and I _did_ check for curiosity’s sake, she claimed to hate how humans treated Faunus, yet never once did she act if a fellow Faunus suffered discrimination or bullying.  In fact, she never so much as turned her head in their direction. She’d just walk by as if it wasn’t her problem. She never spoke up, she never took a stand, she’d talk big in private but hide beneath that ribbon and behind her books in public.  Doesn’t sound to me like she was serious about wanting equality.”

Weiss opened her mouth to refute this.  Closed it again when she found no argument that would hold water.  Blake wanted to keep her Faunus status a secret? It’s not like she would have had to take her bow off to call out bullying and defend someone.  Any decent person could do that. She was a loner and didn’t like getting involved with people in general? Didn’t change the fact that something wrong was happening in front of her and she just ignored it. 

They all had, she realized as a sudden wave of shame washed over her.  Oh Teams RWBY and JNPR commented in private about how awful Cardin had been...but they’d not once acted against him.  Instead they’d all just...minded their own business and turned a blind eye to it.  

How hypocritical and it filled Weiss with revulsion now that she realized it.  Her only defense was that they’d been self-centered teenagers at the time but...that wasn’t really an excuse, was it?

“And she certainly didn’t practice what she preached considering she was just as discriminatory.” Roman continued, snapping Weiss from her bout of self-loathing. “Speaking from personal experience here.  She didn’t go after White Fang throats when they were blatantly doing ‘wrong’. Hell, she _defended_ them and typically just gave them metaphorical swats on the wrist rather than fighting them seriously.  Instead, she zeroed in on the sole _Human_ of the group and tried to _slit my damn throat_.  On multiple occasions, I might add.”

Recalling what she’d heard about the Docks fiasco, Weiss winced.

Roman leaned back into the sofa, jade eyes narrowed. “So it was alright for _her_ to resort to violence when it suited her?  It was alright to let off _active terrorists_ on the claim that _they_ were the victims yet _not_ allow the same for the other party?  I call bull! The Kitty Cat was, and _is_ , nothing more than a weak-willed, spineless idealist.  Head in the clouds and purposefully blind to hard reality.  And when hard reality takes offense and rubs her nose in it?  She cuts and runs off to continue her delusions elsewhere!”

Ouch.  That was rather painful to hear, though Weiss _had_ asked for it.

“I can certainly see your point, Roman.” She admitted – after all, it wasn’t like he was _wrong_ , and her own memories of Blake’s behaviors at Beacon were perfectly clear even without the sudden vehement light – however, she refused to react to the vitriol dripping off his tone. “But regardless of her actions, she _does_ believe what she says.  If nothing else, from what I heard from Neptune, her son was a very _hard hitting_ wake up call.” 

“She _thinks_ she believes.” Roman was all too quick to correct, finger flicking up again for emphasis. “There’s a distinct, if subtle, difference.  What she _really_ thinks is that the White Fang were right, and Humans should pay for their pain.  As should any Faunus that didn’t come under their banner. Problem is that she couldn’t stand seeing the _consequences_ of their methods, so she claimed to oppose them.”

“She can’t afford to sit idly back, not with her son.” Weiss countered, eyes narrowing. “And Sun won’t let her.  He fought the hardest, for someone so laidback, for her to _settle_.  And, your contacts aside, neither of us knows Blake anymore…” Ow, that hurt more to admit than she expected.  Frowning, Weiss shook her head. “Blake was, and is, an idealist. I won’t argue that. But she’d be better in a boardroom arguing with people than on the street as some vigilante.”

“Better?  Maybe.” Her lover agreed, which almost startled Weiss before he continued. “ _Would_ she?  When she could bypass all the time wasted arguing with people who may not see things her way when she can go out and, from her perspective, cut to the heart of the matter directly?  Probably not. Odds are that if she saw me now she’d go for my throat. Again. No matter what good I’m doing these days.”

...Well.  It wasn’t like she could actually _refute_ that little statement.

“Considering she still only knows you as a High Criminal, I’ll not argue that point.  I never intend for her to discover you without me being present to derail her.” Weiss offered an apologetic smile. “You know I’m only arguing – poorly, I admit – for her side out of respect for Ruby’s memory?  Flawed as she is – as we all are – I have to at least offer her a chance to show me she’s not still tied to her time as a member of the Fang.” She held up a hand to stall a retort. “I’m not going to risk _us_ over whatever remains of our friendship.  But...she _was_ a friend.”

Roman stared at her for a long moment.  “Pity she never saw you that way.”

And now she knew why Roman hadn’t wanted to tell her.  The words cut straight to the faded scars in her heart, drawing all the more blood because they were _true_.  

Weiss doubted Roman missed her subtle flinch.  _Ruby._ “Blake never made concrete attachments.” She forced out. “I was surprised she connected with Sun enough to risk pregnancy...and then to stay with him to raise their child.” Sighing, feeling suddenly exhausted, the corporate head got up only long enough to reach the sofa before dropping down again to lean against her Companion. “It...earned some small bit of respect from me.  And maybe a little hope she’s changed.”

“Or it could just be the monkey is a Faunus, the mini is a Faunus _and_ a literal part of her.”

“I won’t argue against that, it has a disturbing amount of weight to it.” Weiss frowned, too numb to really feel pain at the observation.  Mentally she corrected her original assessment. _This_ was the reason Roman hadn’t wanted to tell her.  She’d heard somewhere, possibly from Ruby, maybe from Penny, that anger was like a boomerang that bounced off a _lot_ of heads before coming back.

And Roman _hated_ Blake.

“But to go from essentially zero attachments.” She pressed on regardless. “Beyond her misguided loyalty to the Fang.  To actually raising and protecting a family? Especially as we both know enough about Sun to know he won’t ever help the Fan in any way?  No, she’s changed. Or I dearly hope so.” She shook her head. “I won’t hold my breath, however.”

Had she not been watching for it, she would have missed the way Roman visibly swallowed whatever it was he was going to say next.

Instead, he shrugged. “Best I can ask for.”

“I’ve learned not to ask for much.” Weiss murmured, leaning into his side. “Life seems to enjoy ripping the world out from under me when I do.  Like...Ruby…”

Roman winced.

“I take what I am given, and do my best to _earn_ everything else.” Turning, she pressed her face into his shoulder.  A soft huff of laughter escaped her. “So I think I”m understandably amazed by the two of us.”

“What can I say?” An audible grin as he buffed his nails against his shirt. “I take only the very best.”

 _Who takes who?_ Weiss wondered ironically, a snort escaping her as she pulled back enough to catch his eye.  And smirked.  

The full-body shiver that ran through him was _highly_ satisfying.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This was an interesting section to write, as Zephyrus and I actually role-played the two characters for the conversation. And before I get comments about how unfair we were, consider that this was written before/during the beginning of Blake and Sun's stay in Menagerie, and only takes into consideration Blake's behavior and history that was revealed in Volumes 1-2.
> 
> During editing, we have been adding little things like mentioning Whitley--who won't be making an appearance--and similar snippets to show that, while the world is different from canon, it's not too different.


	26. Sweet, Sweet Surrender

Standing in the door, watching him sleep on their bed, Weiss almost hated that she’d be disturbing him within a few short minutes.  Though, she didn’t think he’d mind. Not for what she had in mind. Since her birthday he’d given more than enough hints, so she was fairly confident she had _not_ misread them.

Retrieving the box from the bottom of their closet, she withdrew the cuffs before pausing to stare at the loops of leather.  Crude and demeaning though their purpose – there had been a wave of scroll malware in their third year of Beacon, even her own had not been totally immune, and contrary to what the masses assumed, pornographic videos in no way, shape, or form, made such acts and _preferences_ look any less vile – Weiss felt that Roman had different thoughts in mind that led him to include it.  What those thoughts were had been an ongoing mental puzzle for her, and one which she thought, tentatively, that she may have solved.

The gift, as much a gag as he tried to play it off as, was meant to convey very basic concepts Roman intrinsically knew and understood.  It was meant to be a bridge between them, starting with the loyalty they’d shown each other over the last few years and the degree of his devotion towards her.  It was less a hint at more... _unusual_ tastes, than it was...symbolic.  

A gesture not unlike the exchange of rings between a newly wedded couple.  The rings themselves were less important than the _promise_ behind them.  An oath of fidelity, of partnership, one which the picture of conjoined rings – never ending and ever connected – illustrated.

So what did a collar and lead promise?

The lead was a limit to one’s movement, the ability to be brought to heel at a gesture.  Had she not seen pet owners keep their dogs in line with a sharp twist of their wrist, or allow further freedom by investing in a retractable leash?  For a man such as Roman, who prided his freedom and independence above all else, to put that in another’s hands was by no means a casual gesture.

The collar was similar, yet itself a different sort of gesture.  By itself it was a physical expression of his devotion towards her and that, like a dog, he was at her beck-and-call.  With it she could hold him back, or let him loose at her own design. Couple that with the engraved tag embedded into the fine leather?  A gesture of submission and deference. Of _ownership_.

Perhaps she was over thinking things.  Roman could simply have been expressing one of his whims for his own amusement.  But with the parallels… Weiss had to wonder.

Forgoing the leash, she instead drew out the collar and latched it loosely around her own neck, noting that it was a touch too large for her, before leaving the closet and approaching the bed.  It was simple enough to bind her sleeping lover, cuffing his limbs to the head and footboards in a loose eagle spread. Even had she not taken care not to disturb him, it was unlikely he would have stirred.  His instincts and reflexes did not register her presence as a threat.  

Unless she intentionally tried to wake him, or a genuine danger showed itself, he would sleep through nearly anything she did.  As she had realized upon discovering he would purr for her in his sleep, and curl about her like a great cat.

That completed, Weiss left the bed long enough to slip into a recent purchase of hers, a rather sheer nightgown.  

Absently, she noted that changing with him in the room, asleep or not, no longer bothered her.  Well, not _bother_ , per say, she had been rather prone to blushing back near the start.  While they did not always have time near each other during the last few months, the first oft-interrupted month after her birthday they had been...insatiable.

Or perhaps _she_ had been insatiable and he had merely – if eagerly – been humoring her.  That thought _did_ bring a blush to Weiss’ face and she mused that it must be the reason behind couples going on a ‘honeymoon’... 

Banishing the thought to maybe consider later, Weiss straddled her lover’s waist.  As always she enjoyed the feel of his skin against hers, the way he’d stir at her touch.  Smiling, she leaned down to press a kiss to his lips for a long, sensual moment before sitting straight again.

Obviously not yet awake, Roman tried reaching for her.  The cuff links _clink_ ed as they went taunt above his head.

Weiss was _not_ prepared for him to jerk under her, yanking _hard_ as white-rimmed jade snapped open, a sharp gasp escaping him.  The cuffs audibly strained but did not give and naked _terror_ spread across her lover’s face as he tried flailing–

Stilled as his eyes met her own equally terrified eyes.  He blinked, panic fading to disoriented confusion.

Coherency, she could see it sparking to life as he blinked again and gave a tentative tug of bound limbs.  Then realization bloomed, his eyes growing wide as he stared up at her, not with fear, but with a sort of stunned surprise even as the tension melted from his frame and he relaxed again.  The expression, eerily open and foreign on the face of the man she had come to know and love, seemed to lift years of hardship from him and made him seem almost – dare she even think it? – _innocent._

 _Childish, perhaps._ She corrected even as she felt her brows scrunch in worry, one hand fisted near her throat. _Like Ruby with something bright and new, something she didn’t realize was even_ possible…

“R-Roman?” She whispered, reaching out slowly, ever so gently, to splay fingers across the white-blue rose on his chest, feeling the frantic pulse beneath muscle and bone.  Slowing, now, as he calmed again. “Are you alright? I’m...I’m _sorry_ , Dear.  I- I didn’t think you’d react like that…”

She should have, though.  Roman was, even now, a man fleeing the law.  Of _course_ he’d panic at being cuffed helplessly.  Weiss should have warned him of her intentions _first_.  A mistake.  A cruel one.

“S’fine…” Roman’s voice was weak despite having recovered his breath, his eyes somewhat glassy. “Just...didn’t think you’d actually _do_ it, s’all.  Surprised me...m’alright now, don’t worry.”

It hurt, hearing his voice like that.  _She’d_ done that – regardless of whatever history he had to warrant such a response – she had, unintentionally or not, caused him fear.  An expression she had never seen on his face before. Concern, yes. Worry, yes. Even outright alarm. But never honest _fear_.

“I...after the box, and the book…I just wanted to surprise you, not...” Even as she spoke her explanation felt weak. “Not terrify you.”

“It’s fine.” His tone was firmer now, even as he glanced away.  “Like I said: I didn’t expect you too actually, well…” A flicker of sheepishness, and Weiss was almost certain that was a hint of red crawling its way up his neck.  “Really. It’s fine.”

No.  It was not fine.  But...if he wanted to brush it off then, this time, Weiss felt she could – should – allow it.

“I’m not a total prude, Ro.” She finally offered a shaky smile, the hand at her throat relaxing enough to toy absently with the borrowed collar. “While I might have thought the cuffs and collar a joke, at first, giving me the book afterwards certainly drove home _your_ interest in it.”

“Heh…”

“And.” She brought both hands to her neck, undoing the collar’s clasp. “As unusual a symbol as this is… I understand offering up control to another you trust.”

All at once she found herself the focus of Roman’s complete and undivided attention as his head snapped around, eyes homing in on the collar in her hands.  His gaze wavered, darting between the collar, to her face, then back again, an unfamiliar expression flitting across his face. Weiss...wasn’t entirely sure he was even _breathing_ as he tilted his chin back, exposing his throat, and lifting his head from the pillow in unmistakable offering.

“I don’t think I fully understand, just yet.” She admitted, gently brushing her hands across his skin and feeling a slight tremor as she carefully closed the collar around his neck.  An odd calm settled in jade eyes as the latch _click_ ed shut and he let his head rest back on the pillow.  Weiss ran the fingers of one hand up to cup his cheek, feeling him lean into the touch, while the other settled above his white-themed tattoo. “But...I know I will with a little time.  It’s symbolism.”

His body, previously held still, if not quite tense, under her was relaxed entirely, now.  A sense of _anticipation_ seemed to emanate from him even as he let his eyes slide half-mast.  It was an even toss up if he could even hear her right then.

“It’s a physical surrender, to match my emotional one.” Weiss went on. “The ability to break each other, and _knowing_ we won’t.” Her smile steadied and she leaned down to kiss him, gentle and lingering.  Then she pulled back slightly, grinning, as she leaned over to breathe her next words into his ear, privately delighting in the faint shiver the action roused. “You’ll have to guide me, dear.  At least this time. Books are no substitute for experience.”

A soft snicker, almost to quiet for her to confirm its existence, but _there_. “I’ll guide you, as you did me.” He murmured, a faint smile on his lips. “But...don’t be afraid to push.  To prod. Whatever you wish to try...I have no arguments against.”

This from the man she suspected had been abused in the past.  She was touched by his trust.

“Small steps, Ro.” She brought her lips to his throat, just above the collar, a faint giggle escaping her.  “Small steps. Together.”

His head tipped back obligingly. “Whatever you wish.”

“I don’t really wish for much, dear.” Weiss teased. “And I’ve never found you lacking.”

“You never d-” 

His breath hitched as her nails traced lightly down his chest, a sudden shiver ran down his entire frame as she rocked upright.  Blinking, heat pooling at the reaction, Weiss repeated the motion while sliding lower on his hips, and was rewarded by a sharp gasp.  A stronger shudder. The cuffs binding his wrists rattled loudly as he strained against them, trying at once to pull them free and use them as leverage to prolong contact. 

This was new.  She found she rather liked it.

Entranced by his reactions to her touch, still seated atop his hips, Weiss dragged her nails down to where the hem of her nightgown brushed the waistband of his sweatpants.  This time an outright _moan_ escaped Roman’s lips as he arched under her, his head pressing deeper into the pillow.  

Rocking with the motion, a moan escaped Weiss as well.  Unlike her lover, however, the stimulus did not leave her near paralyzed.  Smiling, she slid her hands up to his chest, fingers spanning across his skin as she leaned down to capture his lips in a quick kiss.

“I think I like your tastes, Roman.” 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This one was a little short, so if the next chapter is ready for upload this coming Monday I'll post it. Sorry for the delay on this one, Sunday/Monday was busy on top of having a migraine, and I forgot to post this.
> 
> While this is another--and I believe the last--erotic scene, it was a medium for showing some of how Roman and Weiss are continuing to learn about how the other views relationships, control, and surrender.


	27. Child's Play

The bullhead bucked beneath her as it was brought around for landing.  The pilot was a vaguely familiar man she’d seen with her secretary on several occasions and led her to wonder _was Donella married?_   Weiss honestly didn’t know and found that fact a touch embarrassing.  She’d had the same secretary for _three years_ , she really shouldn’t be such a stranger by this point.

A stray glance out a viewport let her catch sight of the familiar sigils marking one of Roman’s Bullheads in the same clearing.  Taking that into account, Weiss took a slight detour before heading to the large cluster of tents her own people had set up well before her arrival.  Recognizing Griffon, the same man who’d flown her from Ruby’s Grave to Roman’s Penthouse, had been surprisingly nostalgic. And encouraging.

_If he’s here, then perhaps Roman is, as well._

Not that she knew _why_ , exactly, Roman would have men in the vicinity, let alone be present himself.  Grimm incursions, especially messy ones like this was turning out to be, were decidedly _not_ in his purview as Vale’s Shadow King, that’s what she – and Ozpin’s own agents – were for.

Nonetheless, it would be nice to see him again.  They’d been apart for some weeks with little more than brief missives Scrolled between them.

Still, business before pleasure, and Weiss was nothing if not professional.  The first thing she did after greeting Griffon – truly an unfortunate name, little wonder his partner favored a nickname – was take a brisk pace to her own command tent, easily identifiable by her own sigil emblazoned on the top and by virtue of being the largest tent in the area.  There her subordinates, and herself as needed, would direct logistics and manpower against the rapidly moving groups of Grimm. 

The lesser variants were of little concern, Beowulfs and Boarbatusks primarily with the odd Ursa or even rarer Beringel tossed in for flavor.  However, recent updates had mentioned sightings of a Goliath herd traveling in the far wake of the smaller Grimm. A hazard, to be sure, but what truly concerned Weiss were the hints of a haunting of Geist in the area.  Odd, seeing as such Grimm were normally solitary and not prone to swarming like more common breeds, hence why she had elected to take point on this part of the operation. Her plan was to take a Huntsman team to verify whether or not the possessor-type Grimm were indeed present and, more importantly, in numbers. 

If so, they would require heavy artillery.  A hard hitter, Weiss was not. Fortunately Jaune, Nora, and Ren were on call should the Intel prove accurate, though Weiss suspected a couple of combat-armed Bullheads could handle a haunting of Geist just fine.

A flash of white in her peripheral made her head snap up from the pin-dotted map she’d been looming over.

“Well hello, Sweetheart.” Roman grinned down at her, tapping the crook of his cane to his hat in greeting. “Fancy running into you here.”

“Hello Dear.” Weiss murmured back with a smile, voice pitched just loud enough for their ears alone.  Then smirked, casting a quick glance at the personnel checking the various holographic monitors and basically pretending the couple weren’t there, gaze lingering momentarily on a solitary dark suit before letting her tone drop to a dismissive tease. “It isn’t like I could be expected anywhere else.” She looked back up at him, still smirking. “This _is_ an FSI operation, after all.”

Roman, having followed her gaze, met her eyes again with an amused quirk to his brow. “Oh I can think of several other places.”

“But this is the temporary HQ, and time is running short.” With a gesture, Weiss began moving towards the unoccupied field desk near the back of the tent.  “Not that I’m not grateful, but why are you here?”

“Oh, serendipity.” Grinning, Roman fell into step just behind her, cane swinging amiably in hand. “It just so happens we’re heading the same way.”

“Does it now?” Returning his grin, Weiss couldn’t quite dismiss her own intrigue.  Perhaps later she’d ask for details, should the curiosity linger that long. “Well, as I’m certain you know the disposition of my people and our objectives, why not fill me in on any areas where your own will be supporting us.” A pause. “Or where we may need to support you.”  So much for waiting until later to prod her lover for details.

“Oh the only interactions my men will have with yours will be via our matching HQs.” Roman answered nonchalantly, casually lengthening his stride until he walked abreast with her. “And if you could tell yours to ignore any nighttime bangs, that’d be swell.”

Weiss felt a vein in her brow twitch.  The darn man was doing that on purpose. 

Still, better not _openly_ acknowledge his yanking of her metaphorical chain.  No need to make things worse. “We will likely be too occupied with the Grimm to care.” Rounding the field desk, she flicked on the holographic screen. “Still, _night time bangs,_ Dear?”

“Just in case.” Roman murmured, tone becoming serious as he stopped before her desk, hands tucked behind his back. “We’ll probably manage without undue attention, but forewarned and forearmed and all that.”

Suggesting that the situation was a tad more serious than Weiss was being led to believe. “Fair enough, just be careful.”

“Of course.” The High Criminal chirped at her, jade eyes alight with mischief.

Rolling her own eyes, Weiss began cycling through several screens.  Smiled, lowering her voice as she glanced back at him. “More than usual, My Love.” She amended.

“You may wish to cut back on that.” Roman cautioned with a pointed jerk of his head towards the dark suit. “No few of your employees, and mine, have excellent hearing.”

“I know the people in the tent, Ro.” Weiss deadpanned, offering a vague offhand wave. “And the only one close enough to _maybe_ hear me actually works for Junior.” Amusingly, the dark suit twitched at that. “But you’re right.” Sighing, Weiss continued flipping through reports.

“Anywho-” Roman snickered. “-just dropped by to give you the heads up.” Another salute of his cane. “Always a pleasure.” A slight bow followed the salute, then he spun on his heel and walked away.

“Of course.” Weiss returned, not bothering to stop the small smile from settling on her lips.  Then, as the tent flapped in the wake of vanishing coat tails she affixed a lazy glare at the dark suit.  Said suit made the mistake of ‘casually’ glancing back at the same time and froze, wide-eyed. “Do wait until _after_ we’re finished here, would you?”

Wincing, the ax-man offered a chagrined nod and went back to his immediate task with notably more intensity than he had when eavesdropping, making Weiss smirk at his back.

_I’m going to enjoy rubbing Xiong’s face in this one._

He really should have known better.  Sending someone without even the good sense to so much as adopt the local uniform?  

_Honestly._

             **-0-**

As it turned out: _yes_ , Geist were just as susceptible to high-caliber Gatling rounds – particularly explosive rounds – as Giant Nevermore, provided one had a decent sharpshooter to deal with the possessor itself once the Grimm made a break for it.  There had been three of them, _not_ the dozen-plus hinted by alarmed Intelligence reports.  Weiss would have to track down the original scout and talk to them about the difference between valid concerns and panic-induced over-exaggeration.

She hadn’t even needed to call in the remains of Team JNPR, much to Nora’s dismay.  Weiss could hear her dramatic groans of discontent in the background of Jaune’s relieved acknowledgment when she’d Scrolled them the update.

Primary reason for her presence settled, now all Weiss needed to concern herself with was coordinating the remaining operation.  Should such be necessary, that is, seeing as she had perfectly competent strategists and tacticians overseeing things. While they had appreciated her presence they had, very politely, shooed her out of the HQ when it became clear it was rather superfluous.  Weiss would review their decisions later that evening, as she did every operation, but otherwise had nothing present she needed to attend to.  

As such she had taken to wandering the staging-ground-nee-refugee-camp in the hopes of maybe crossing paths with Roman or, barring that, finding one of the other resident Huntsmen to strike up a conversation. 

Children scampered around as she made her way, darting around tents and personnel with the wild energy only children could possess.  While normally Weiss would be glad to see the giggling, cheering mix of little Humans and Faunus she harbored some concerns over how Roman’s men would handle their presence.  Her own knew to keep an eye out, at least.

All the same, the sight was still a little startling.  She had – in the back of her mind – expected something to this effect when she arranged basic relief efforts, but there were _so many_ of them.   

It...actually reminded her of Ruby’s oft-child-like behavior.  The energy. The unbridled joy. Until… Well.  Weiss was always happy to see children.  They reminded her of better, more innocent times when the world had seemed so simple.

 _Perhaps not_ better. She amended silently, watching the giggling forms.  _And...though it is taking time, I_ am _making the difference Ruby had wished to make._

Her old partner would approve, Weiss thought.  Pleased.

A glimpse of white had her looking up from another cluster of children and she spotted Roman under a tent awning with one of his aids.  Absently, she noted the cigar gripped in his teeth. How long had it been since she’d seen him with one? With the way he leaned on Melodic Cudgel, the sly cant to his jade eyes, and the tail of smoke winding above him, Weiss could not help but remember the odd... _rivalry_ , for lack of better term, between her current lover and her old partner. 

The rivalry, and the little inconsistencies that she, only decades later, was beginning to make out.  Inconsistencies between what she’d assumed then, and knew now.

Roman Torchwick was, and continued to be, a lethal man.  Utterly merciless with those who opposed him and whom he’d decided were a Problem.  Weiss had _seen_ the remains of those he opted to deal with personally.  Yet, despite that, he’d never once directed so much as a trace of that lethality towards Ruby.  Oh, he’d play the Master Criminal to the hilt, but of the ruthless killer she knew him to be? Never.

Weiss could even recall her leader’s tales of their encounters, and what glimpses she’d seen of them herself.  _He talks a lot_ was one comment Ruby had made on a number of occasions.  Something which stood out to Weiss now. When Roman was sparing, or just playing around, he tended to talk, be it snarky quips or an outright monologue.  But when he was being serious? Silence, save for some low growls.

Knowing that let her realize that Roman had been actively refraining from any sort of lethal damage, instead playing up his own act to, if not make Ruby back down, then to distract her from her surroundings.     

The closest he’d ever come to _potentially_ lethal harm had been at Mountain Glenn when he’d tried having Ruby gunned down by an impromptu White Fang firing squad.  And considering they’d been in a city-sized cavern at the time and the little Grimm Reaper had had a _speed-based_ Semblance...well.

It certainly put a new spin on things, didn’t it?

A flurry of movement snapped Weiss from her musings in time to see one of the giggling children – clearly not watching where they were going – slam full-on into Roman’s legs, the impact not so much as rocking the man on his feet.  The Master Criminal paused in his discussion, cigar smoke drifting lazily into the air, and glanced down. The rebound had left his ‘assailant’ flat on their rear and, like any small animal caught in the gaze of a larger predator, completely frozen upon dizzily making eye contact. 

Suddenly tense, Weiss readied herself to flash over and retrieve the child.  Only to hesitate, an odd impulse holding her in place in favor of watching Roman’s reaction.

A slight quirk of a dark brow was the only visible response Roman made before he glanced back at his aid.  Weiss couldn’t see the expression on his face, but she _did_ see the aid roll their eyes in a manner that strongly reminded her of Glynda before turning away with a dismissive gesture and focusing on the scroll in their other hand.

The odd byplay made Weiss blink, absently wondering where she’d seen such before, before the tension began melting away and she crept closer.  It didn’t seem that Roman had noticed her yet but, knowing him, that didn’t necessarily mean anything.

With a careless flourish of his coat tails, Roman crouched down in front of the child, reaching up as he did so to pluck the cigar from his lips and absently rub it out in the dirt next to him.  Weiss saw the child flinch back at the movement, the set of their shoulders clearly broadcasting the _fear-of-being-struck_ , which she couldn’t blame them for.  Her lover was rather tall and did not exactly come across as _friendly_ most days.  More like a venomous snake that couldn’t be bothered to bite, but _would_ if provoked.

The other children, Weiss noted peripherally, had all frozen in their play in favor of watching the scene playing out with wide eyes.

Then Roman said something to low for Weiss to make out – possibly a question judging by his expression – and the child tentatively uncurled enough to peer up at him.  Offer a little nod. Looking curious now, Roman asked something else and she could see the fear in the child’s frame ease out, replaced by sudden interest as they nodded again with a bit more confidence.  Apparently satisfied, Roman offered his freehand to help the child up before straightening again. Once released he made a grand flourish in the universal ‘lead the way’ gesture. Complete with a shallow bow.

Visibly excited now, the child turned and ran off to their friends.  There was a moment of hushed whispers and wild motions with several ‘discreet’ glances in Roman’s direction – Weiss saw the smirk indicating the Master Thief had noticed the looks as well and found their attempted subtly amusing – before the entire group suddenly ran off in a whirl of laughter and cheers.

Smirk softening into a small, still-amused smile, Roman sauntered after them, Melodic Cudgel swinging carelessly in his grip.

Reaching a hand out to rest against a tent-support, Weiss felt any lingering tension finally ease away.  A bemused, if happy smile graced her lips at the unexpected scene. The ease in which he’d handled it, and the children’s own reactions, had touched her.  In hindsight, she honestly shouldn’t have been surprised. Especially considering her earlier musings on Roman and his encounters with Ruby. The Master Thief _was_ honorable, in his own way, and there were some lines that he simply wouldn’t cross.

Harming children seemed to be one of them.  Though his definition of ‘harm’ was clearly different from the norm.  Weiss had seen some of the bruises Ruby had sported after a few of their encounters, painful ones, but he had never once _honestly_ tried to kill her.  Which he _could_ have done, Weiss knew, after having sparred with him on a regular basis.  It was well within his capabilities as a lethally trained duelist.

Only Ruby had been enough of a child in his eyes that it had been a line he’d refused to cross, no matter how close he seemed to toe it in some cases.  

And wasn’t that just like him?  Forever testing his boundaries, seeing just how far he could push.

 _Well_ , Weiss mused, _it certainly keeps things interesting, if nothing else._

**-0-**

It was sometime later, after performing a casual check-in of the various Points of Interest in the camp, Weiss began wandering in search of her Companion.  He wasn’t near the main hub, command tent or otherwise, and the airship clearing was also devoid a ginger-haired thief. Now somewhat confused, she’d finally tracked down Griffon to ask if he’d seen, or at least knew where to find, his employer.

“Boss?  He’s over on the town-side of the camp.” The pilot shook his head, a note of wry amusement in his tone. “Apparently he’s showing off again, or at least that’s what I’ve heard.  Don’t know specifically, ma’am.”

“Thank you.” Giving an acknowledging nod, Weiss turned away. “I’ll go see what he’s found so interesting.”

Which is how she’d stumbled onto the completely unexpected game of ‘Catch the Thief’ in full swing.  There was Roman in the middle of what had to be every child in the encampment, both refugee and local of both races.  

Before her amazed eyes she watched some of the bolder children lunge, only for Roman to neatly sidestep and pivot around grasping hands with practiced grace.  A little hop-skip back to evade an opportunistic second wave. Then a grand, sweeping flourish of his arms that startled a number of them back enough so he could dance free of the scattering box trap and then the game began anew.

The obvious, easy amusement on his face surprised her.  Weiss never expected him to be so relaxed around children, and the sight brought to mind her recent conversation with Winter.  A topic her sister enjoyed bringing up unexpectedly.  

The topic of heirs of her own.

Privately, Weiss had been uncertain on the matter.  Not for herself, children would be a blessing she’d scarcely dared to dream for, but she’d been uncertain how _Roman_ would handle the idea of children.  Let alone consider the possibility of being sire to his own.

Now though, watching him play...no, it wasn’t _just_ play.  There was _purpose_ to this game, she could see it in the way he moved, and in the way his movements influenced those of the gathered children.  It was rough, loose, so haphazard that Weiss doubted anyone else could see it, but there it was.

Strategic planning, unthinking teamwork, exploiting what was around them.  All skills those less fortunate would need just to _survive_ in the harsh place that was their world.  Simple enough to be picked up by osmosis, even if not consciously noted.

And wasn’t that just Roman all over it?  Always pragmatic, even in play. A born survivor.  A blooded survivor.

A flicker of movement drew her eye in time for Weiss to spot several giggling children hiding overhead in the shadowed boughs of a tree.  She saw Roman catch the same movement a moment later and turn to look up-

The ‘Ruby-in-Spotlight’ expression on his face was _priceless_ as the proud criminal was promptly buried under the avalanche of giggling forms.  Weiss could hear his startled yelp from across the clearing. Then he hit the ground and was promptly lost from sight as the rest of the children took the opportunity to dive onto the squealing dogpile.

Most of them, anyway.

Weiss was amused to note the sight of Melodic Cudgel, clenched in tiny upraised fists, going in one direction and– was that?  Yes, and there went the feathered bowler in another. Knowing her lover...well, he likely wouldn’t take those particular thefts _lying down._  

Heh.

Sure enough, hardly a moment later the pile toppled over as Roman surged up with an appropriately dramatic roar, scattering screaming children every which way.  Those that weren’t still trying to cling on, anyway. Weiss could not repress the giggles that arose at the sight of children hanging off her lover’s shoulders, arms, and back.  Most of them lost their grip moments later, unable to maintain their hold as Roman rose to his full height. All except for one determined little monkey – the same one, Weiss realized, who’d bumped into Roman earlier – clinging to the back of his neck.

The sight sent an odd _pang_ through Weiss’ chest, sudden and harsh and _raw_ as she watched him evidently not notice his giggling accessory as he scanned the immediate area with narrowed eyes, searching–

Stilled as he spotted a familiar gray feather.  

The child wearing his bowler hat, posturing proudly before a few other children, happened to glance over and promptly froze, wide-eyed.  For a long moment, both parties simply eyed each other.

Roman charged.

With high pitched shrieks, children scattered like a flock of panicked pigeons, with the one hat-bearing little one hightailing it in the opposite direction.  And how Weiss had forgotten just how _fast_ Roman could move when the inclination struck him, his long legs rapidly eating up the intervening yards and rendering what little lead the child had managed a moot point.

 _Intent_ clear on his face, Roman kicked out his legs in a sliding tackle with his squealing backpack still gripping his neck.  The little hat-thief let out a _shriek_ that made her ears itch as they were neatly scooped off their feet.  Then Roman, reaching the end of his slide, spun to his feet with a grand flourish of motion that ended with his hat back on his head and a giggling child teetering in a dizzy circle before flopping to the ground at his feet. 

The pang worsened – or greatened, Weiss had no proper frame of reference – upon seeing the small, joyous face peek over Roman’s shoulder to giggle down at the former hat-thief.  Like a deep ache, raw and _wanting_ …

She shook her head in an attempt to focus, to set the feeling aside, but knew it was a futile effort.  Instead, she watched Roman as he peered around again, obviously hunting for his cane and apparently dismissing the smiling – if still vaguely wary – parents Weiss only just noticed observing the scene from nearer the town itself.  Several waved at Weiss upon catching her eye before setting out to round up scattered offspring.  

All save for two mothers in particular whom, she noticed, seemed content to simply wait and watch.

Weiss returned her attention to Roman in time to watch him zero in on something.  Following his gaze, she didn’t bother smothering the giggle that arose at the sight of Melodic Cudgel’s barrel peeking up over a small stack of boxes.

Obviously the current possessor had underestimated just how long their prize actually was.

There was a faint smile on Roman’s face as he murmured something to his passenger.  Set his shoulders. And Weiss almost collapsed in giggles right then and there as he then proceeded to _stalk_ his beloved cane.  Circling in a large arc around the obscuring boxes rather than diving in directly as he’d done for his hat.

 _A cat._ She compared, grinning.  _He looks like a big cat._

A gloved hand snapped out and a yelping child was lifted up.  And up. Until they were eye-to-amused-eye with Roman. A sheepish grin settling on their face, the child let go as Roman straightened again.  Victorious.

Victorious, at least, until his little backpack shimmied up to sit on his shoulders, stealing his hat in the process and depositing it on their own head with a wide grin.  The child on the ground cheered for them. Roman, Weiss was amused to observe, merely huffed in mild annoyance as he glanced up at the new hat-thief, but otherwise made no attempt to dislodge them or retake his hat.  He did, however, glance briefly in her direction.

The moment where their eyes met seemed to stretch for an eternity.  Weiss knew he could see it – whatever _it_ was – in her gaze.  She was never as good at hiding her heart as she liked to pretend.  At least when around people she cared about. That raw _want_ , a deep ache that made her want to cry, to cling to him and never let go again.

Intense affection didn’t even come close to describing it, but it was all she could think of to describe what she felt for him.  For his actions with the children.

Roman didn’t seem to know what to make of the nebulous sensation, either, instead just giving her a curious look.  There was a clear question on his open face as he looked at her before it vanished beneath his polite mask as he turned away.  Escorted the two lingering children towards their awaiting mothers.

Weiss _almost_ flinched.  _That was...mildly disappointing…._

The ache _pang_ ed again.

It was fortunate she’d already accomplished her primary objectives for being on sight, because it seemed the rest of the operation would be _distracting_.  She just knew it.  But she was a Schnee – disowned or not – and an experienced Huntress and businesswoman aside.  She could – and would – be professional. Whatever she was feeling, the job came first.

No matter how urgent the feeling seemed, she could be patient.

And she was.

Later.  Much later.  Weiss found she had to applaud her self-control.  It wasn’t until they were both safe at home that she ambushed him with his collar and a _Look_.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This scene is several months after the last one. I'd say it's been something like five going-on six years since she saw him at the Tavern at the start of the story. [The tavern is in a town I've decided to name Riga, not that such is important for this story]  
> It should be obvious by now that Weiss' symbol is Ruby's Rose--colored pale blue instead of red--but I wanted to restate that fact here just incase some thought the symbol of the FSI tents was the snowflake.
> 
> All edits are now finished, so starting this coming Monday (Sep 16) I'll be posting every Monday until it's all up.


	28. Of Claims and Names

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This one is short, but after the late posting of the last chapter I figured I wouldn't make you wait over a week for this one. Next post will be on time and is longer.  
> Please check end notes before reviewing.

Warm.  

It was always warm, waking beside her lover, her Companion and Partner.  It was something she cherished, never remembering – except in the far past, when she was very young and her mother had held her – a time when she felt as safe and content.

Rolling over, careful not to disturb him, Weiss’ eyes roved over his sleeping form.  Roman slept on his stomach, arms cradling his head so that his face was buried in the pillow and his light snores were muffled.  Her eyes fell on his collar, tracing the white leather to the ring where the leash was attached, and from there to the bedframe where it was loosely tied.

“ _To keep me in my place?”_ He had teased, earning him a snort of laughter before they’d settled down to _actually_ sleep after their...activities.

Moving so as not to wake him, Weiss climbed out of bed and shivered as the cooler air met her bare skin.  Then, padding over to her discarded nightgown, she slipped it over her head before moving to the side table.  There, in the bottom drawer, was a second, smaller collar.

Two strips of thin, supple leather, one band white and the other black, connected at the back by a simple clasp and joined in the front by a silver ring.  On either side of the ring was Ruby’s rose emblem, her leader’s original ruby-red design embossed on the black while the sapphire-blue of Fallen Snow Incorporated rested on the white.

It had been a touch embarrassing when Penny found her as she was placing the order with the shop, unembellished collar in hand.  But that was a memory for another time.

Sitting on the bed, back pressed into the dip of his hip and new collar in hand, she gently shook him awake, “Roman.  Dear? I have something for you.”

“Mm...mmph?” Roman shifted on his pillow, a sleep glazed jade eye opening a sliver to look at her.

Smiling, Weiss gently nudged his ribs before reaching over to unclasp the leash. “Come on, at least sit up.” Hearing the click seemed to rouse Roman, at least enough to push himself into a seated position.   Swaying in place, he blinked owlishly at her. “I have something for you.” Setting the gift out of sight by her leg, Weiss reached up and around his neck, undoing the clasp as she leaned in for a kiss.

Humming, and seeming more awake now, Roman returned the kiss, one arm looping around her waist with a gentle squeeze.  When they parted he tilted his head in obvious question.

“You seem to like that one.” Weiss murmured, offering a shy smile as she set the ‘toy’ on the mattress.  “But you can’t really wear it with any of your usual costumes, so…” 

Keeping her eyes on his face, Weiss held out her gift.  Roman sucked in a sharp breath, eyes widening as he glanced between the new collar and Weiss as his other arm joined the first around her waist and tugged her closer.   

He lifted his chin, throat bare.

She leaned forward to lightly kiss the tender skin, pulling back as she reached up and carefully wrapped the collar – more like a choker necklace – around his neck and closing the latch.  The metal ring was centered where she had kissed, and she admired it a moment – fingers ghosting over it and down his chest – before turning her questioning eye to his.

“ _Thank you_ , Love.” Roman breathed, eyes oddly distant as one hand drifted up to brush supple leather.

“Ro,”  Her chin dipped, eyes looking up at him through her bangs, as she whispered in a curious, gentle tone, “I’ve been wanting to ask, and you don’t have to answer, but...  What _is_ your full name? The ‘B’ initial?” She arched a brow, smiling up at him as she watched and waited.   Truthfully, she’d been curious since she’d seen his initials in her scroll, but there was never really a time to ask and she’d...  not really felt like she’d earned the right to his name. But, if everything she’d seen from him around her was any hint, maybe he wanted her to know.

“Mm?  Oh…” Roman chuckled, features softening in a way she rarely saw with him.  “My Mother named me Romano Bohemian Torchwick.” Arms slipping higher up to wrap around her shoulders, he hugged her close with a playful whisper.  “No one else alive knows my full name, Love.”

“Romano Bohemian Torchwick.” She murmured, feeling his name slip from her lips, and she tilted her head back to face him properly with a smile. “And no one else will, not even after the days we’ve gone to Dust, only our memories echoing from the smoke in the still mirror of time.  _Thank you_ , dearest, for sharing with me.”

Thrumming deep in his throat, Roman rubbed his face against hers, then pulled back, dragging her down with him.   “Anything for you, Love.” He curled around her, eyes already sliding closed. “Now...if you don’t...mind...”  

Weiss gave a soft laugh, warmth and contentment bubbling up in her heart.  Even if it was morning, a little more sleep sounded wonderful. Dust knew they didn’t always have the chance to spend more than a few days together, and it was part of their ‘weekend’.   She was only now, over the last year, beginning to accept she had her piece of the world Ruby had always fought for. Her own moments of happiness, in – as Yang might have joked – a Grimm-Dark world.

Smiling – _grinning_ , she was so happy in this moment – Weiss pressed back into him, gently tugging his arms tighter around her, and followed him into sleep.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Roman's full name here is something my co-writer Zephyrus came up with, and is--to my knowledge--exclusive to Tarnished Sliver. Zephyrus gave his name the backstory of being given by his mother, and he simply gave a simplified version whenever asked after going into crime. No one alive knows it besides Weiss.  
> You saw his initials back when he gave Weiss his scroll-code, and again on the collar he gave her on her birthday. While we could've left it as something for an omake, or as a bit of trivia to just be left in the notes, or even given in a reply to a review, it fit this scene.


	29. Cat Out Of The Bag

Maybe it was a bit late.  

Really, she should be taking up one of the free rooms offered by the FSI rather than still moving around.   Especially after a strenuous mission. But it had been a while since her last visit – not since the Raid on Weiss’ Headquarters, in fact – and Blake wanted to surprise Weiss at least _once_ for dropping by unannounced before calling it a night.   

For once everything seemed perfect for it.   She had no immediate pressing concerns, Crescent was safe back home with Sun – who had warned laughingly to _call_ the former heiress when she arrived – and she was scheduled for some downtime anyway.   

 _So_ , she thought, _why not?_

Hopefully Weiss wouldn’t mind.   It wasn’t _truly_ late, after all.   The last rays of day still painted the sky, and the lights set along the trail had only just come on in the falling twilight.  Barely noticeable but there nonetheless for when the sun passed the horizon and night truly descended.

So she could be forgiven, in the dusky atmosphere and snaking shadows cast by the trees lining the trail as if in a dream, for almost overlooking the pair as she rounded a bend.

It was like a scene straight out of her novels: A man, forearm braced at eye level against the tree, leaning over a much smaller woman.  

Blake couldn’t be entirely sure whether it was a benign scene or not, though she’d assume so considering the atmosphere of the hub town itself and its watchful protectors.   Anyway, it wasn’t any of her business so she would just continue on-

The man chuckled, and she froze in her tracks.   It had been years – nearing twenty now – but she _knew_ that laugh.  

Gaze snapping around again – and how the hell could she have overlooked the white of his coat? – she finally identified them.   _Weiss_ , her back pinned against the tree behind her as _Torchwick_ loomed over her, cane in hand.

Blake lunged.

Torchwick must have sensed the danger, because his head snapped up and around just as Gambol Shroud connected with his hastily raised Aura.   The yelp almost completely drowned out another startled cry as the cane clattered to the ground and the terrorist crashed into the dirt, sliding to a stop some yards away.   Unarmed. Off balanced. _Vulnerable_.

Blurring forward with a snarl, Blake brought her blade down on the Human.

_Why isn’t he fighting back?_

A stray thought amidst the haze of red that had fallen over her mind.   Torchwick was just lying there, supine, not even raising a hand to defend himself and looking, not at her, but _past_ her-

Then she felt the resistance pressing up against Gambol Shroud’s edge.   A second, more elegant blade had caught her katana-gun just inches from Torchwick’s helpless form, keeping it from splitting the man’s guts as it _should have been_.   

A very familiar blade.

Wide-eyed, Blake’s head snapped around to meet the equally wide-eyes of an ashen Weiss.

“Blake, _please_ …don’t…”

Her mind couldn’t process it.   It simply did not make sense. Scratch that, it couldn’t be _possible_.

“Weiss, that’s _Torchwick_!” The man who seduced desperate, naïve faunus into his sick games.   Who had stolen Dust and weapons alike to use against the City of Vale, stooping to such levels that he’d break the protective wall to let Grimm flood the Breach.

How could Weiss be _protecting_ him?  She knew what he was! 

But…she had only caught fleeting glimpses of the man, Blake remembered, no direct contact like herself or Ruby had experienced.   Perhaps she simply hadn’t recognized-

 “Yes!  I know!  I’ve known for the last _six years_!”

The shock weakened the force she was leveraging behind Gambol Shroud, letting Weiss flick her blade up and knock it away from Torchwick completely.   But Blake hardly noticed, staring at her old teammate in unadulterated horror.

It didn’t make sense.   It _didn’t_ _make sense_!  Weiss _knew_ what could happen, what she risked by interfering with long overdue justice on a wanted and condemned madman.   The cost of their friendship being the least of it. All Blake had to do, should she be unable to _handle_ things here, was report Torchwick’s location and Weiss’ association with him to the proper authorities and everything Weiss had built would fall apart.

But, through the fear, through the bleak _knowing_ , Weiss was all but snarling at her and refusing to back down.  “He is my partner and _Companion-_ ”

 _What?_  

She could _not_ have heard that right.

“What’s the matter, Kitty-cat?” That loathsome voice chimed up from below.  “Never have someone actively step between you and your quarry? Bites, doesn’t it?”

“ _Roman!_ ” Weiss pushed Blake away, moving to stand between her and Torchwick even as the other woman shot the man a venomous look.  “Do _not_ make this worse.” 

Before Blake’s eyes, Torchwick actually _flinched_ at the rebuke.   His visible eye flickered up to meet Weiss’ gaze before dropping down and away as he turned his head, jugular exposed and Blake felt her jaw drop.   Perhaps a Human would have missed the significance of the gesture, but not a Faunus.  

Was Roman Torchwick _submitting_ to her friend and old teammate?

“Weiss, what…?”

“Companions, Blake.” Weiss repeated, hesitating a moment before returning Myrtenaster to her waist.   Glancing back over to her, she knelt beside the man, one hand resting flush against the left side of his chest.   Then her fingers trailed up to the gray knot of his scarf– was that a hint of white beneath the gray?

Unresisting, Torchwick even tipped his chin to allow the CEO clear access to the knot and, coincidentally, his unprotected throat.  Fabric fell away to reveal black-and-white leather beneath.

“I know the past- did you think I could ever forget?” Squaring her shoulders, Weiss returned to her feet, drawing Torchwick up with her.  “And while I won’t say he walks on the right side of law…he does walk by _my_ side.   And I, his.”

Gambol Shroud hung limply by her sides.  “But- how? _When_?” It didn’t make sense.   _Nothing_ made sense!  But she could not deny – though she dearly wished to – what she saw before her.   Weiss’ unguarded proximity to the Master Thief, secure in the knowledge that no danger would come from his direction.   And that _collar_ …

Torchwick’s apparent consent to wearing such a blatant mark of ownership and servitude aside, the symbols she could see branded into supple leather… Blake felt her heart ache.   Since her death, she hadn’t seen Ruby’s crest anywhere else until Weiss had adopted it as her own. Even now it branded everything belonging to the former heiress-

The faunus felt her mind shy from the rest of that thought.

“You remember how I was, six years ago?” The white-haired woman was asking, “And how I began reaching back out to our friends from Beacon?”

How could she forget? 

Blake ducked her head, though kept her eyes fixed on the pair.   She’d been overjoyed to learn that Weiss was finally pulling herself back together from the tragedy that had almost destroyed them both.   And perhaps guiltily relieved that perhaps she would stop sending those gut-wrenching _questions_ … 

“A few wise words, blunt though they may have been.” Weiss smiled up at Torchwick and Blake could _see_ the naked affection the look held.   Almost swear she could feel it, even from several feet away, and was stunned anew.   “And then he came when I called for help, dealing with a...dispute between two equally degenerate groups a few years back…”

She couldn’t suppress the wince, clearly remembering how her own hurt over Yang and Ruby had kept her from Vale.   Kept her from Weiss, when the other woman had clearly needed _someone_.   Blake knew – and hated to admit – that, of the two of them, it was the former heiress that had been hit hardest by the loss of their old partners, her partner.   Her friendship with Ruby had been one that Yang had teased – in private – for being almost a romance.

“And he didn’t trap me any of the times he could have.   Never betrayed me.” Weiss went on, looking at her again, her not-quite-pleading gaze backed by steely defiance and resolve.   “He helped me, subtly or brazenly, to get back on my feet and eventually start the FSI. He’s the only one I’ve ever trusted more than Ruby, and all he asked was that I not betray him, and perhaps ‘play hero’ when his men do something stupid.”

“ _Aww_.” Dusty arms wrapped around Weiss’ narrow waist – Blake felt her hackles bristle again – as Torchwick tugged her much smaller frame flush against his.  “You’re gonna make me blush.” Chuckling, he pressed his face into white hair. “And the aid was hardly one sided, you helped me more than you realize, Love.”

It was too much.   His gall and words – couldn’t she see he was using her as a _shield_? – the slow blush spreading across Weiss’ face, it was just too much!  She had to do something, she _wanted_ to snarl and just _act_ and get that _monster_ away from her teammate.

But a physical attack would result in her crossing blades with Weiss, and she didn’t want that.   So words would have to do.

“He’s _Roman Torchwick_!” Weiss was her friend and obviously had no idea of the snare she was trapped in.   Slowly getting tighter the longer she remained anywhere near him. She had to try, even if a tiny part of her knew she had already lost this fight.  “He nearly destroyed Vale years ago. Neo was his _Partner!_ ”  Damning, oh so damning.   Guilty by association. Guilty by deliberate action.   How could he be anything less-

“And _he killed her_!”

Blake felt her thoughts come to a crashing halt at the declaration.

“ _He_ avenged Ruby, and left us their emblems.” Weiss _leaned into_ Torchwick’s embrace.  Her expression softened.   Pleading. “I’m not defending his crimes, Blake, I’m asking you to give him _peace_.   Yes, he operates in the gray and black away from the law, but it _helps_ the people around him, and stamps out other rings that may draw in Grimm by the hordes.”

“My work is never done.” Torchwick’s tone could almost be described as sing-song.  “I’m surrounded by idiots in every direction. Keeps me very busy.” Blake didn’t need to see his face, still hidden in Weiss’ hair, to know that he was smirking.

“Honest work never is.” Weiss teased, rolling her eyes.  “And you work a version of it, for a given definition.”

The thief dipped his head, monochrome collar clearly visible, as he acknowledged the point.   Then a sense of smugness emanated from him as he added, “Whenever I’m not at the end of your, uh, _leash_ , that is.”

As Blake’s stomach threatened to rebel entirely, Weiss let out a startled laugh.   Blush deepening, she swatted gently at one of his hands. “Hush, save the innuendos for later, dear.”

The faunus just managed to refrain from gagging, but knew the likely pallid color of her face would betray her thoughts anyway.   “Just…how long have you been…” Conflicted and visibly uneasy, she gestured to them. “like _this_?”

“All the way or otherwise intertwined?”

…He was doing it on purpose.   Blake _knew_ that.   Not that the knowledge eased the rolling in her gut.   Quite the opposite.

“Roman!”  Weiss hissed, amused and embarrassed in turn, before smiling at Blake again.   “Partners-in-crime, if you’ll forgive the phrase, since about five years ago. Give or take a couple months.   But _together_ since some weeks after the failed Raid.   He was, as Penny revealed, in the hospital during your visit.”

Funny how one could almost get used to the world turning on its head as everything fell into nothing less than insanity.

“Penny knew, and didn’t do anything?” Almost calm now, the Faunus woman’s tone held only incredulousness.  “She just accepted it?”

“Yes, though not _who_ until that evening.” Nodding, Weiss lay her hands over Torchwick’s.  “I…admit I broke down when she said she would keep my secret. She’d been trusting my judgment since not long after Roman released me from our contract.”

 “ _What_ contract?” Blake pounced, tense once more as her eyes flickered between the two.   Finally, it all made sense, this was another sick _game_.   But she wouldn’t let him win.   He wouldn’t get away with this.   Not this time. All she had to do was make Weiss _see_ \- “Weiss, he had you under his thumb?  How could you have trusted him?” She’d heard of this, Sun had mentioned it off hand one day when she was reading one of her novels out loud for him and Crescent.   Stockholm Syndrome. Or some variation at least. Maybe all she’d need to do was tie Weiss up and take her to a therapist that _wasn’t_ on her payroll…

Finally, Torchwick lifted his face, just enough for the exaggerated roll of one jade eye to be visible.

“Because it was the deal for helping me clean up the Turf War Mess, back then.” And Weiss was glaring, clear warning in sky-blue eyes.   If Blake tried to act as she knew she had to, Weiss would fight her. “This isn’t me continuing to be beholden to him, or some misguided affection.   It isn’t _Stockholm Syndrome_.” Torchwick coughed once, burying his face in Weiss’ hair again.  “He never pushed or forced me into anything, the risk was _always_ on his end.”

Gently, Weiss pulled away from him and he didn’t try to make her stay.   He did, however, visibly wilt at the loss of contact, broad shoulders drooping.   

Ignoring him, arms akimbo, Weiss met Blake’s intense stare with an icy look of her own.   “And when I paid off the debt, he almost had to kick me out, telling me to go build something.   The FSI is that something.”

A glint of dark mischief in shadowed jade.  “Limpet-mink.”

Weiss rounded on him.  “I am _not_ a mink, nor am I a _limpet_.”   Though the hiss was dark with the potential _hint-of-pain_ , her posture – _their_ posture – suggested this was an old, almost playful argument between them.

“You were almost like this with Ruby.” The numbness of realization drowned out the pain the admission should have roused.   Weiss turned back to her, confusion plain on her face. “If you or she didn’t have to be separate for missions or chores… You were always there.” A tired, broken smirk.  “And you are a bit of a mink, Weiss.”

“I am not.” An odd twitch suggested Weiss wanted to stamp her foot, but managed to control herself, instead settling for a vague pout.  “But…can you blame me for clinging to people who care about me _for_ me?”

That was low.   That _hurt_.

“Not that you’d know, would you, Kitty Cat?”

And that?  Was. Not. _Helping!_

Flinching back, Blake met his narrowed gaze with one of her own.   “I didn’t think you _could_ care, Torchwick.”

A snort.  “I don’t.   I do, however, find it interesting that for such a close knit team, when push came to shove and she was at the end of her rope…she turned to an old thief for comfort.   A terrorist. A _murderer_.” A dark smile.   “You, more than most I think, know the _charming_ names polite society has for me.   I think this,” a gesture between himself and Weiss, “is quite telling, wouldn’t you agree?” He tilted his head, amused.  “For all your preaching of equality, of making things _right_ , just what have you done that _matters_?  I have to say, the daughter of a consummate bigot has done more in six years than you have in over fifteen.”

“Don’t you _dare._ ” Blake ground out.   How dare he talk as if she were the bad guy?  She wasn’t the one at fault! “She wasn’t the only one hurting.   Do you think I don’t regret every moment of running away I did? That I wish I could turn back the clock?  I’m just grateful she never turned her back on me.” 

His expression didn’t change; scornful, dismissive.   As if he were some judge who’d already looked over the evidence and _decided_.   

Desperate, Blake looked to Weiss, expression  imploring. “We both know… I was never the good one on the team.   I always ran, always pulled away…but _Torchwick?_ ”   

Hard blue softened a little as Weiss met her gaze.   “I always forgave you, Blake.” Her voice was gentle. “I never thought the worst of you, over that decade.   Hurt, yes, even angered and bitter when I wasn’t drowning in my depression. But I never wished ill of you.” Then she looked back at Torchwick and her tone softened further still, heavy with nostalgia.  “You know I was never exactly kind. And in the privacy of my mind, I even hated myself. But…loving Roman? I forgot what it was to hate nearly every facet of my being. I learned to live again. Can you blame me for finding that solace, for embracing it?”

The hard look faded from Torchwick’s face, his expression gentling in a way Blake would never have thought possible from him as he met his lover’s eyes.   Then he blinked, and looked away.

Blake wilted, seeing the action for what it was.   Knowing she had lost- no, more than that. It hadn’t even been a contest.

“No…I guess I can’t…”  She seemed to curl in on herself a moment before straightening again and fixing Torchwick with a glare.  “But if I _ever_ see she’s been hurt by you…”

Torchwick rolled his eyes dismissively.

Weiss reached up to cup her lover’s cheek even as she smiled at Blake.  “Trust. Companionship. Mutual respect, even dependency. You’ve nothing to fear, Blake.”

“And I’ve already received the _‘hurt her and die horribly’_ speech.” Torchwick drawled, eyes sliding half-mast as he visibly leaned into the touch.  “Multiple times, in fact. From various sources.”

“From _who_?”  It stung.   Horribly. Not only had she _not known_ about this little development, useless to prevent it, but others had not only known but _given their consent_.  “Who else knew before me, other than Penny?”

“Well, my sister, for one.” Ducking her head, Weiss blushed.  “She overheard Penny asking me about Roman after dinner the first night of your visit after the Raid.   She and Penny are the ones who spoke to him after Roman and I discussed… _us_ , after he’d recovered.   Junior also knows.”

“You’re father’s another.” Torchwick added, smirking.   “My favorite, though, has to be my little Hacker’s. Did you know she made an illustrated diagram of just what she’d do to me?  Complete with a timetable for how long it’d take me to die.”

Blake blinked, at once surprised yet not by Penny’s approach to the Master Thief.

“My _father_?” Whipping around, Weiss gaped up at him.  “Is _that_ what you were doing when Winter found you?  What if you’d been caught? What if you hadn’t been able to _get away?”_

“I would have blown up the house.” Was the careless response.  “Ice Queen _also_ scolded me for dropping by for a chat when she caught up to me.”

Blake couldn’t help it, what with the emotional rollercoaster of this whole little fiasco coupled with Weiss’ sputtering, utterly flummoxed expression, she chuckled.   “I’m sorry, Weiss,” She apologized, offering a smile as the sound drew her friend’s confused gaze. “But are you really surprised? His entire reputation is built on his constant flouting of rules and common sense.”

“But I’d nearly lost him here, and then he goes and does something _else_ completely moronic?” Rounding back on her Companion, Weiss thumped a finger into his chest.  “Don’t - You - _Dare_ do something like that again!”

Wide-eyed, Torchwick gave her a look of complete innocence.

It struck Blake then, numb and emotionally spent as she was, just how deferential Torchwick was with Weiss.   He was – they both were – their own people. Independent. Strong. Unwavering. But there was an obvious link between them.   A connection. One not really that much different than her own bond with Sun.

“You really are together.” Caught mid-rant, Weiss turned to face her again.  “There’s nothing on Remnant that could stop you, is there?” Blake huffed, an almost hysterical bubble of laughter escaping her throat.  “Yang used to joke about you and Ruby, you know… I think they’d both be happy to see how much you’ve grown and changed.”

Weiss blinked.   Blushed. “She did?”  Relaxing, a smaller, more sincere smile settled on her face.   “Yes, I’d like to think she’d approve as well.” She hesitated.   “Will you be bringing Sun and Crescent next time? They’d be safe around Roman, and we could all relax for a time.   I’d rather not hide what I don’t have too. And he’s showing an _immense_ amount of trust right now, letting you know he’s here and alive.”

Yet another thing Blake was trying not to think about.   Torchwick had managed to stay below the radar for almost two decades.   Logically he should be trying to silence her right now as she was a direct threat to that and, indirectly – and she hated admitting to this – a threat to Weiss.   The human, the _monster_ she knew would have done anything to remedy the situation.   No matter how many throats ended up cut. No matter _who’s_ …

“I know he is, Weiss, and…” Stopping, Blake watched them a moment before, reluctantly, making a decision.  “We’ll see about everyone meeting in a few months. I…I need to sit on this a while.”

“Fair enough.” In a few quick strides, Weiss was in front of her, drawing her into a warm embrace.  “Don’t be a stranger again, Blake.”

“I won’t, Weiss.”

 


	30. Kittens and Cream

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Only two more chapters after this.

Funny, he’d almost forgotten what his old style felt like.  Wearing it now felt both oddly nostalgic and weirdly comforting.  Which was kinda the point.

After Blake’s impromptu detour to visit Weiss, she’d come back all but raving about the presence of, of all people, _Roman Torchwick_.  Big bad extraordinaire himself, complete with hat, cane, and more attitude than should be healthy for a Human.  Needless to say, Blake had not been impressed to learn that not only was he _back_ , but in possession of Weiss’ undying adoration and protection.

Yeah, that had both been, and been not, a shock.  Admittedly he’d already had his suspicions. Weiss’ not-so-subtle attempts at steering the topic-of-blame off Torchwick after the Raid had certainly pointed him in the man’s general direction.  Though it had been something of an even split between the man himself or one of his closer subordinates, and after he’d called Penny that same evening and gotten her dutifully-apologetic excuse of having been sworn to secrecy…yeah.  

He’d kinda had time to get over the shock of the prospect.

So, while on the one hand, yeah, it was _Torchwick_ and the thought of him as an affectionate lover kinda clashed with his trademark pomp and love of sowing anarchy.  And, yeah, he was a crook of Kingdom-spanning proportions and had his fingers in all sorts of dirty dealings. But, honestly?  The number of men strong enough to keep up with the Ice Queen herself were kinda thin on the ground. Sun himself was one – or at least that’s what he liked to think, kinda hard to get an unbiased opinion but, hey, Blake was still with him so maybe? – and he knew maybe a handful of others out of the _mass_ amount of people he knew and, yeah, that also included Torchwick.

Oh the others were all nice enough guys, real sweethearts if the coos he heard from various female friends were any indication, but lacking that _steel_ in their spine.  That fire that would let them go toe-to-toe with the strongest of personalities and not back down, maybe even win outright from time to time.

Yeah, Torchwick definitely had that.

In spades.

Unfortunately, Blake didn’t see it that way.  All she saw, and remembered, were crimes Torchwick had committed while under Fall’s employ.  Which, while definitely bad, had still been over fifteen years ago and the man seemed to have been behaving himself since.  More or less. 

Admittedly he’d managed to calm her down somewhat after she’d finished ranting, so at least she wasn’t up-in-arms anymore, but Sun _knew_ his girlfriend.  Well enough to see that she was getting into another one of her _moods_.  The one where she’d brood and puff and hiss at the object of her ire while staying as far away as physically possible. 

And that, honestly, just wouldn’t do.  Sun wanted to meet the guy who managed to melt the Ice Queen’s heart, darn it!

He was curious.  If there was one word that could describe him, it was that.  It’s what had led him to a banana-laden boat to Vale City way-back-when.  What had gotten him to follow the beautiful cat faunus with a ribbon in her hair.  So many things made him curious. What’s that do? How did that work? And various other things along those lines.  He enjoyed poking things, so much so that he’d even gone so far as to take a couple classes to let him both poke things better, and know just what it was he was poking so he was less likely to have it blow up in his face.

Which was why, a couple months after the verbal explosion, Sun had waited until _after_ Blake had left on a mission.  Then waited a couple hours more for good measure in case she doubled back to check in on them like she sometimes did. 

 _Then_ he’d pulled his old-but-still-good clothes out of storage for some fresh air, tucked Ruyi Bang and Jingu Bang into his waistband and out of sight beneath his shirt, gathered up an eager and curious Crescent, and promptly went to hitch a ride on the first flight out of Vacuo that was heading in roughly the right direction.  It had been heading into the Kingdom of Vale, at least.

Hey, planning each and every step of a trip took half the fun out of it.  A little spontaneity was good for the soul!

A few round-a-bout flights and one overslept-ride-and-frantic-doubling-back later found them in the little Hub town Weiss had practically claimed for her own.  Technically for FSI use, but it was really the same thing. And now they were heading down the trail leading to Weiss’ cottage-slash-mini-mansion, a still sleepy-eyed Crescent yawning against his back, clinging in a manner more fitting of a monkey than a cat.

Coincidently it was the state that left him with the _biggest_ darn watery-kitten eyes Remnant had ever known.  Guaranteed to melt even the most steely of Master Thieves’ hearts.

Was he stacking the deck in his favor?  Yes. Yes he was.

 Sun had heard enough from Weiss, over messages and the rare voice-chat in the CCT, to know that Torchwick would at least pause at the sight of the toddler.  At least he assumed it had been Torchwick as she had been very meticulous in not naming her ‘partner’, but it was a good bet. After all, it was highly unlikely there was another guy so ingrained in Weiss’ life or held in such high esteem, but he was just guessing.  Anyway, so hopefully the man would be willing to wait long enough to hear him out.

And hopefully that wouldn’t be necessary.  Spontaneous as this whole venture was, he’d coordinated enough with Penny to know he’d hit one of the few overlap-of-schedules that meant both Torchwick and Weiss were both home for a few days.

Best case scenario: Weiss was home alone.  Annoying, yes, this whole trip was so he could meet Torchwick in person, preferably without explosions-and-junk involved.  But Weiss being there alone meant time to get settled and establish a fool-proof buffer for when the Thief King got back and he’d be in the perfect position to observe.  Thus, _best case_.

Not-so-best case was that they were both there and Weiss opened the door.  Again: enough time to establish some sort of a buffer between himself and Torchwick until they’d smoothed things over.

But what if Torchwick opened the door?

Sun felt his steps slow down at the thought.  _Huh…funny, that didn’t really occur to me when I decided to do this…_ It was a perfectly valid possibility.  Fifty-fifty straight out if they were both home.

So, the question now was _what would Torchwick do?_

They’d only met twice, and both times had been…less than perfect for good first impressions.  And, from what Blake had said about Torchwick’s barbs towards her, Sun would be willing to bet the man was one to nurse grudges.  He definitely had one carefully nurtured grudge with the plate ‘Blake’ hanging over it. 

Best case the man was willing to let bygones be bygones and just bury any potential hatchet.  Not-so-best case would be a cold reception complete with a door slamming in his face. If that happened he’d just wait for Weiss to come back.  Or at least give her a call. Worst case was that he did, indeed, hold a grudge and decided shoot-first-ask-questions-later was an excellent policy.

Sun came to a deliberate stop.  Carefully lowered the drowsy toddler to the ground, and held his hand as the front porch finally came into sight.  He tried to be casual about it, but Crescent seemed to be picking up on his nerves and had ducked to try and hide behind him and was unusually quiet.  Not a peep, in fact, none of the chatter he normally filled the air with. Great.

Still, he didn’t _think_ the man would act so recklessly.  From what he remembered the man was more a thinker and a planner.  A real ‘run-and-live-another-day’-type.

 _But that was years ago…_ he admitted to himself, absently taking the first wooden steps. _Well, at least Crescent knows how to duck, and I know I can at least hold the guy off._ Toddler tucked behind his knees, Sun knocked on the door. _Meh, he still has a price on his head and freelance Huntsmen are crawling all over town.  He probably wouldn’t go near the front door during daylight hours if you paid him- Oh…_

_Oh, sh-oot._

Clad in jeans, a shirt with sleeves rolled to the elbows, and a dark vest, Torchwick stared down at him from the now-open doorway.  Much more casual than the clothes Sun remembered him favoring, and that odd half-white, half-black leather collar branded with the old-and-new rose emblems were a bit of a shock.

The boom-stick-cane of his was nowhere in sight, thankfully.

“Hey!” Offering a grin and a wave, Sun shrugged off his own unease. “How’ve ya been?”

A single jade eye surveyed him, the other hidden by the trademark orange bangs Sun remembered, and Torchwick didn’t respond.  His expression was unreadable, offering no insight to his current frame of mind or possible intent to finding the monkey faunus on his front porch.

Still.  No cane.  That was a definite plus.

For one awkward moment that seemed to stretch forever, Torchwick did nothing more than fix him with a perfectly level look.  Then his gaze flickered downwards, like when something moved in one’s peripherals-

Squeaking, Crescent ducked back again, one hand shooting out to snatch his errant tail.

Arching a dark brow, Torchwick then proceeded to blow off Sun entirely as he slowly crouched down.  His arms came to rest across his thighs and a small smile settled on his face. “Now what are you doing over there?” The Master Thief asked, tone light and surprisingly friendly and Sun mentally tallied up: _Cute Kitten Eyes: Win._

“It’s okay, Cress.” Sun assured with a grin, twisting back to look at his son when the latter didn’t respond. “This is Aunty Weiss’ Companion.” 

Admittedly, this isn’t what he was thinking of when he was thinking up possible scenarios, but endearing none-the-less.  And it looked like he’d probably be fighting – and probably losing – with Crescent for Torchwick’s immediate attention. Now _that_ would be a funny story for later.

Almost as funny as the Severely Skeptical Look that only a little kid could give that was being shot in his direction as Crescent ducked back further.  Peeked around just enough to eye the unfamiliar Human.

“Sorry ‘bout that.  He’s not normally this shy.”

The man, again, blew him off.

“You know,” Torchwick began nonchalantly a moment later as he settled back to rest lazily on his heels, “I _was_ about to pull out some chocolate-and-buttercup icecream, but if you don’t want any…” Straightening up again, he gave a careless shrug as he turned away. “I suppose I could just eat it all by my lonesome.” Without a backwards glance he walked back into the house, “Since you don’t seem so keen to the idea…”

Unsurprisingly, now free of the spotlight and at risk of being denied sweets for not talking, Crescent darted after the much taller man.

Sun laughed. “Oh, is that how it is, Kit?  Leave dad all alone for some ice cream?”

Spinning mid-stride, Crescent paused just long enough to grin back at him before his momentum brought him forward again and he ran on.

**-0-**

Gently swinging the door closed behind her and hanging her bolero from the rack beside it, Weiss moved towards the living room. It had been a blessedly calm day, a pleasant start to her afternoon with Roman. Stepping into the living room, the first thing she saw was Sun seated in one of her wing-back chairs, calmly reading his scroll.

He looked up to meet her startled gaze with a broad grin, then softly shushed her before gesturing at the sofa.  Blinking, pressing down her nerves at finding him here when she knew Roman had been home, she found herself letting out a soft coo.

Sprawled on the sofa was her Companion – apparently dead to the world if his faint snores were anything to go by – and atop his chest was little Crescent. Settled against Roman, with one of his arms keeping the little one safe from rolling off, the last few inches of Crescent's Maine Coon tail gently curled and relaxed as it hung over the edge.

Without taking her eyes from the sight, Weiss reached back to her pouch and withdrew her scroll, silently opening it and bringing up the imager function. Snapping a couple pictures – one from where she stood and another from closer up – she set her scroll on the coffee table and glanced back at Sun.

"When did you get here?"

"An hour or two ago." He whispered, closing his own scroll. "Figured it's been awhile since Cress saw his aunty, and I wanted to meet Roman. Not that we spoke, but I got a kick outta both of them ignoring me in favor of ice cream and giggles."

"Ever the Children's Diplomat." Weiss smiled, looking back to the sleeping pair. "I wish you'd Scrolled me, though. I'd have come home earlier."

"Nah." He brushed it off.  "Not a big deal. Blake had a three-day mission, and I took the opportunity. Glad you're back, though, I was getting bored. Might be a toddler, so I like my quiet time, but I came to visit not watch Roman's babysitting skills."

Weiss let out a laugh, blushing, before Sun's next words had her giggling.

"First thing Crescent did, after we moved in here and Roman there sat down, was climb up on his lap and grab his face." Sun chuckled. "I think he was looking at the eyeliner he wears, turning his head back and forth."

"I wager Ro was smirking, yes?" She sighed, the sound happy. "He humors children when they're around. I should tell you some time about the operation FSI ran, or rather how Roman entertained a few dozen children with a game of tag."

"Heard about the Op.  Did not know he was involved." The monkey Faunus got up to retrieve his son, grinning. "Then again, that was probably the point.  _Not_ knowing Roman Torchwick was there."

"You're not bothered by him?" Weiss watched Sun for his reaction, sitting beside Roman's feet.

"Nah, figured you had good reasons for keeping us in the dark." Sun suddenly froze, hands partially scooping up the sleeping Crescent, as a low growl sounded.  A single slitted jade eye affixed the blonde with a Dark Look. “Easy man, I’m just picking him up.” The monkey Faunus murmured. “Weiss is back, bro.”

Another growl answered him, Roman’s arms tightening slightly around the tiny Faunus on his chest. 

Weiss smothered a giggle at the sight, and saw Sun doing the same in favor of trying for Serious Parent.  “I appreciate the _guard dog_ attitude, man, but this one is mine, not yours.” A snicker escaped him even as he matched Roman’s narrowed look with a narrow look of his own before adding: “Make your own.”

For a moment, Weiss choked silently.  Then she shook it off, cheeks feeling uncomfortably warm.  “Dear, are you really ignoring me?” She teased gently, reaching out to lay a hand atop one of Roman’s, feeling the same warmth and longing from watching him with the children at the operation camp settling on her chest.

Seeing the tiny Kitten Faunus in Roman’s protective grip made her more certain than ever now about wanting one of her own.  A piece of her and Roman to raise and watch grow.

There was a slow  blink, jade eyes clearing somewhat of sleep as Roman finally relaxed his grip.  The man looked somewhat confused.

"Gonna snap at me, Roman?" Sun teased, gently wiggling his hands under Crescent so he could pick the still sleeping toddler up.

 "Funny." Tone husky with sleep, Roman glanced at Weiss.  His expression gentled slightly as he moved his hand to give hers a light squeeze.  Then he turned against the couch, and promptly went back to sleep.

"We thought so." Weiss smiled, then chuckled, "Well, I suppose we'll visit over dinner."

"Eh, whatever." Sun chuckled, watching Weiss a moment before shifting Crescent towards her. "Here, I can wait a bit longer, and Cress is still in nap mode. Best to keep him warm and still."

Accepting the toddler, she gently leaned him against her chest, his head nestling into the crook of her neck as he started purring softly.  It was a faint, breathy sound, a counterpoint to Roman's gentle snores, and Weiss couldn't resist another coo, missing – as she did so – Sun's soft expression.

"So," he whispered, grinning, "When ya gonna convince Roman to give you one?"

For the second time in as many minutes, a startled blush flooded Weiss’ cheeks as her eyes jerked to her friend. "I- _what_?"

"It's kinda obvious, Ice Queen," Sun teased, shifting back to his chair. "I'd be surprised it Mister Master Thief there hasn't said anything to you. Unless you're playing coy."

"I most certainly am not." She huffed, shifting her gaze back down to the sleeping form she held. "I... just haven't brought it up quite yet."

"Not rushing ya." He soothed, watching her before picking up his scroll. "Just lettin' ya know you aren't as subtle as you might think."

"I run a business, Sun Wukong." Weiss scoffed quietly, mindful of sensitive ears by her jaw. "I'm a master of subtly."

"Sure, Weiss Queen," The Monkey Faunus chuckled, twisting to curl into the chair for a nap of his own. "Wake me when Cress stirs, alright?"

"Of course, Sun."

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Best I can recall, Crescent is around 4 or 5 here. He would've been 2-3yrs old around the time of the Raid, which was old enough for Blake and Sun to feel like they could leave him with one of their parents for the few days the check-in with Weiss and report took.  
> Cress, his nickname, is rather small for his age--barely over 2ft--though he isn't unhealthy or malnourished.
> 
> There is a time skip of several months between this chapter and the next--which I will note in the "at the beginning" notes when I post it--and then another time skip between chapter 31 and the finale, chapter 32. I hope you all enjoy imagining what events might have occurred between the chapters based on comments the various people make in the chapters.


	31. Shock

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> It's been several months since Blake and Sun learned about Roman. And Ren was also told, and allowed to inform Nora.  
> Roman had to be gone for several months dealing with issues involving his empire, only able to manage text and the rare call while away, leaving Weiss to work on her business and a surprise for him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I hope you enjoy this chapter.

" _Pleeeeee_ ase, _BestFriendForever_ -Weiss?  Just for a nano-click? Please, please, prettyplease?"

There seemed, Weiss decided while staring resolutely into pleading neon-green, to be advantages to being an android.  Such as conscious control of the eyes -- or optics as the case were- - to pull off such an endearing Kicked-Puppy-Look that nearly put Ruby's own to shame. 

Nearly.

"No." She stated calmly, internally wincing when Penny somehow managed to turn up the intensity of her expression. "You may not touch me, Polendina, and feel her kicking. You will get to hold her _after_ she's born. When I get home. Just like everyone else."

"But- but- it is the first- _your_ first.  A little one growing inside, so tiny and small and warm andI'veneverbeenfriendswithanexpectingmotherbeforeandWintertakes _precautions_ -"

"Penny!" Winter barked.

The android cut herself off, wilting.  Sinking back into her seat, she kept shooting longing glances in Weiss' direction, but managed to keep quiet.

While she had a moment of satisfaction at the faint blush that dusted her sister's cheeks, Weiss also felt a small bit of sympathy. Penny never seemed to watch her words when she was excited. "First implies others, Penny." She kept her head up even as she felt her own cheeks turn red at the thought. "I may be less... twitchy, next time." Weiss then arched a brow at her sister, smirking. "Keeping your own secrets, sister mine?"

"But- your _first_!  You won't have another first!" Penny all but wailed.

Winter rolled her eyes, her blush fading as Weiss allowed herself to turn back to the poor synthetic woman with a patient – if narrowed – look, "Pester Nora next time you see her, then. Ren tells me they're expecting as well. Certainly, if you can sneak away to see me you can manage a visit to Mistral."

That did not seem to placate Penny any, the android shooting her another doleful look and _whined_.

Rolling her eyes at her dear friend’s pouting, amused, she switched her gaze to Junior and offered a freer smile. "I'm honestly surprised _you_ made the trip. I've known you for nearly as long as Penny, and I can count with fingers to spare how many trips away from Vale proper you've made."

Having claimed Roman's chair as his own for the duration of his visit, the information broker shrugged. "Like she said, it’s your first time.  Hell, _Roman's_ first time." He held up his scroll with a smirk. "Wouldn't miss it for the world...he _is_ coming back today, right?  You're sure?"

"He is."  Weiss gave a firm nod, gesturing to her own scroll where it sat on the low coffee table before giving a startled twitch, sky-blue eyes blinking in surprise before a soft smile settled on her face. "He scrolled me just a few minutes ago saying he'd be here straight from the landing pad at FSI."

"Certainly eager, isn't he?" Winter chuckled, "I'm going to enjoy his surprise. You'll have to send me a copy later, Mister Xiong."

"Of course.  I'm keeping several sets separate for future black mail when he inevitably wipes my Scroll.  Again."

Weiss rolled her eyes at the two, giving a huff as she spoke. "I'll be rather cross with him if his lack of specific timing meant anything other than today." She shot a look at Penny, amused in spite of herself. "And no, Penny, that doesn't mean you can 'string him up' for annoying me."

"The possibility never even crossed my processors." An innocent blink.  "And it has been almost half a year." Penny reasoned. "Pen-Pal-Roman is just as anxious to see you, as you are to see him."

"Still pestering him, are you?" Weiss smiled, feeling her excitement bubble up again at hearing Penny say that. "You're lucky I'm not a misguidedly jealous woman."

That got her a thoroughly perplexed look.

"I'm almost surprised you haven't just told him." Winter put in, arching a brow at her subordinate's confusion, "I know you waited to tell us for a couple of months, but your Companion?"

"I want to surprise him, and I never managed to bring it up before he left and I found out." Weiss ducked her head, grinning, before her expression fell a small measure.  "And once he was away, I didn't want to distract him."

"Yeah, and you wanting to get back at him for all the ' _for your own good_ ' secrets he’s kept from you over the years has _nothing_ to do with it." Junior chuckled.

Weiss had the decency to look embarrassed, but didn't deny the jab, "I think we once exchanged the words ' _turn-about is fair play_." she smirked, "So maybe that _does_ play a small part in it."

"And you wanted to see his face in person." Penny chimed. "Properly recorded for future enjoyment." A bright grin. "My camera will be running the entire time."

"That too, Penny." She laughed. "That too."

Just as her laughter subsided they all heard the front door click open and swing shut, deceptively light – but quick – steps bringing Roman into view. The man hadn't even bothered to put down Melodic Cudgel or doff his coat and bowler, and Weiss felt her heart leap at seeing him. She also felt the baby kick, as if she too were happy her father was finally home. 

Smiling brightly at him, almost glowing, she waited.

Sharp jade eyes immediately connect with sky-blue before Roman surveyed the rest of the room, letting his gaze travel over the collected occupants in silent acknowledgment before he looked at Weiss again-

Mid-step into the room, he froze.

"Is-" An almost audible swallow as his gaze flickered lower and he slowly went gray. "-is that what I think it is?"

"I don't know, Roman." Winter jabbed, grinning. "Whatever _do_ you think it is?"

Roman makes no response to Winter's jab.  In fact, Weiss isn't sure he even heard it, his attention fixated on her swollen middle, face completely ashen.  Feeling her nerves and joy tangling in her chest as she watched him, beaming as she gave him a nod.

He began to fidget, still not looking away.

"Ro." She whispered, smile faltering a little before she shot a hint of a smirk at Penny from the corner of her eyes, and gently waved him over.  "Come here, dear, and meet your daughter."

In her seat, Penny sat up straight.  Eyes wide.

 _Dust_ ,Weiss thought even as she kept her gave on Roman, _I_ _hope Junior caught her reaction_...

Visibly torn, Roman hesitated, fidgeted a moment more, before cautiously stepping fully into the room.  He looked very much like a skittish cat as he crept closer, like any sudden movements might send him bolting out the door or, Dust forbid, forsake dignity all together and just dive out a window.  Then he's standing in front of her, his visible jade eye impossibly wide as he hesitated again. _Squirming_ in place.

"It's alright, Love." Weiss whispered, gentle, loving.

Then he knelt, slowly – one hand reaching up to tug his hat from his head, letting it hang limply at his side – inching closer until he was flush against her legs, his head coming to rest in Weiss' lap.  

Penny, she was amused to note, was actually _glaring_ at the man.  One could almost see the furious steam trailing above her. 

After a moment, the tension eased out of Roman's frame as he relaxed.  He pressed his ear against Weiss' stomach, and his eyes slid half-mast as he went boneless at her feet.  Weiss wrapped her arms around his shoulders, leaning forward as best she could, and felt their baby kick again. She giggled softly, reaching forward to press a kiss to the top of his head.

 _Prrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrr_...

She giggled again – it felt like it reverberated through her whole body, and was possibly the loudest she'd ever heard him purr – and from the peripheral of her sight she noted Winter blinking in surprise at the sound he was making.

"Huh...wasn't sure he did that anymore." Junior murmured, beard twitching to signify a small smile.

"Only for me." Weiss smiled over at the other man before turning back to the boneless man pressed against her as the baby kicked right where his cheek was pressed.  She couldn't stop a small laugh from escaping her as Roman somehow managed to ramp up his purr when he felt the movement. 

She began to whisper to him, uncaring if the others heard her private thoughts to the man she loved more than anything else she'd found in Remnant.  "Do you know why I'm so happy, Roman? Because she's _ours_. Because she is a being that is a part of you, and a part of me." she kissed his hair again, "I've wanted her since I saw you playing with those children back during the defense operation, when I saw how you were with them. I've never wanted anything so much in my life, after you, and _she's yours_." She wrapped her arms tighter around him, "I want to raise her like we never were. To give her every opportunity to follow her dreams. Whether she follows you or me, through the underworld or to Beacon. She'll be a better legacy than any company I could build, a greater treasure than any you could steal. Other than my heart."

**-0-**

Though her sister could not see it, focused as she was on Roman,  Winter brushed away a tear at the emotion-steeped words.  

So much love and joy.  So much hope for a future that, she had learned from Penny, was all Roman’s doing.  Before him, Weiss had been dying, and it had torn Winter’s heart apart to see. To see and be incapable of intervening.  But now? She had never seen her sister so alive since her time in Beacon. Since she’d had the support of her full team with all the world open before them.

Seeing the kneeling man completely unresponsive, focused as he was on Weiss and the tiny life growing within her, Winter quietly stood and gestured for Penny to follow.  Pausing beside her seated sister, Winter murmured: “We’ll return tomorrow for a proper baby-shower. Penny and I are staying at the FSI this time, so we’ll bring Mrs. Donella and her husband with us when we come around noon.”

“Okay, Winter.” Weiss answered, eyes closed as she basked in her Companion’s purring warmth.  “We’ll see you then.”

“I should be going, too.” Junior straightened, stretching out the kinks in his back.  “I am many things, but a voyeur isn’t one of them.” With that, he made towards the door, waving over his shoulder. “Have a good evening, Princess.”

As Weiss called her own quiet farewell, Winter followed in the barkeep’s wake, pausing only long enough to catch Penny by the arm and tug her along when the android seemed fixed in place, wide-green eyes glued on the happy couple.  Penny whimpered quietly but otherwise offered no resistance as Winter directed them both to the door.

**-0-**

After a few minutes of warm silence Weiss shifted, just starting to feel uncomfortable – leaned over her stomach and Roman as she was – and gently nudged him. "Come on, dear, let's move to the bed. We're not doing anything until tomorrow, you can hold us all you like."

A low moan wove through the continuous purr, but after a moment Roman stirred.  Rising to his feet, he drew her up with him, keeping his arms snared around her.

"Don't complain." she giggled, holding him as well, "I'm not even implying you let us go."

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> There, just one more chapter to close out the story.  
> And for the curious: Weiss is about 7-8mo along. Like she implied, she hadn't realized she was pregnant until after Roman had left. Donella, her secretary and friend, was actually the one to get her to visit the doctor and find out.
> 
> I will be including a drabble I wrote a few months before I started posting Tarnished Silver as an intro to the final chapter. I think you'll all enjoy how the two blend, as while I intended it to be a "could be anywhere in the time line", I did add a few changes to imply - if one wants to see it that way - that it occurs right where it's written: between this and the last chapter. 
> 
> I am slowly working on a second Weiss/Roman, but it too will likely take several months or more before I start posting it. I'm writing it on my own, this time, though I am sharing my progress with Zephyrus and bouncing ideas back-n-forth.


	32. All Good Things

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Come to an end. Well worn, and well loved.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The preface is a drabble written several months ago, around the time I started posting Tarnished Silver here. It's been edited a bit to fit with where it's appearing, this end point of the story.  
> All Good Things proper occurs roughly 30yrs after Weiss met Roman in the tavern.

**_Preface_ **

It was calm, there in the dark of their shared room.

Though she never told him, she was certain he knew this was her safe haven: curled up between him and the wall, wrapped in blankets and—more often than not—his arms.

To early to be up—no sounds yet from the rest of the house—she relaxed and drank in the peace and warmth.

This was what she loved. No rush, no pressure. 

She loved him, and as best he could he loved her back.  _More like worship_ , she blushed in thought,  _and claim_. Oh, she held no illusions, though she wondered if he thought she did. He knew what he wanted, and he took it.

But for her.

Roman had let her fly free.

She knew, in her depression, she’d tried to tie herself to his business as an asset; she had–much to her embarrassment–almost begged him to hire her permanently. But he’d gently turned her down, told her to make a name for herself.

So she had. She’d started a company out from under the Schnee name, and aimed it at helping everyone: Hunters, civilians, Humans and Faunus. His only hand in it had been in giving it a name.

But even then she couldn’t stay away from him; an enemy who had offered her an open hand with no double dealing when she was barely on her feet and her only remaining teammate had been too caught up in her own pain and life to offer more than token messages.

So she’d fallen for him, and got from him the best he could give: no promises, but an agreement to always be there whenever needed. A relationship built like a business deal, but with so much more warmth and respect than she could ever have expected from something she might’ve found had she stayed tied to the SDC. Companions, she’d said, and that was what they were. And yet they became so much more.

Rolling over as best she could, she nuzzled into his chest. 

Perhaps love wasn’t simple, perhaps life enjoyed taking good things from her—her heart clinched even now decades later at the thought of her dearest friend Ruby—but this… it was so clear for her. So long as they both lived they would have each other. They would always do their best to return, to come back to this simple house she’d found, to this life they'd built.

**0o0o0o  
** _**All** _ _**Good Things** _

It was in the little things, mostly.  How he’d begun spending more time at home and for longer periods.  The way he’d showered her, whose side he rarely strayed from, and his loved ones with his love and attention.  Almost demanding the attention like the cat she’d often compared him too. He’d even slept with his head cushioned on her lap on more than one occasion, purring steadily.

He slept a lot, these days.  His naps longer than they used to be, occurring with greater regularity.

She’d felt it coming.  Had known since the previous Autumn.  It was a slow thing, putting a soft and almost chronic ache behind her breastbone.  Inevitable. Unwanted. But, just maybe, long overdue.

He’d taken their eldest son, Garnet – and how surprised, and _happy_ , she’d been to have more children after Katrina – on a month-long trip. She knew why, without him having to say. Garnet was always the shadow to his older sister’s light, pragmatic with deadpan sass as opposed to Katrina’s friendlier – if cunning – playfulness.  The two were close as twins, without actually being such. Bickering and testing each other, but always supportive through whatever trials they faced as they grew.

Weiss didn’t fear for them, at least no more than any other mother. They had Tundra and Todd to help them as well. She’d been so tickled to suddenly realize – absently doodling one day – that they made a very good Team.   Vegetable puns aside.

No, she and Roman had raised them _well_ , just as she’d whispered to him years ago. Even though Garnet had followed his father into the Underworld, she knew he would make them proud. If the Schnee line had held the world by its throat in the past, then the Torchwick line would grip its conscience.

But that would be for her children and grandchildren to determine.  Tonight was about Roman.

It was rare that it struck her awareness just how _tired_ he looked, though more so recently. He dressed for bed as always, casual and methodical, the two of them having long ago discarded any real awareness of each other’s nakedness when dressing for the day or night. But tonight, maybe he was a touch slower.  A measure more care in his movements. After noting scars stark against pale skin, Weiss realized just how much grey had overtaken his once brilliantly orange hair, the added crows-feet touching the corners of his eyes.

She knew she must mirror him, somewhat, having long ago lost her tan after years in her office and home while both raising children and running her business.  And she wouldn’t trade a single day. This life was _far_ more than she’d ever hoped or imagined. A family, all her own, free to run wild and chase dreams.  To be what Ruby had dreamed. But as her life had shown her, far too often before Katrina surprised her, all good things came to an end.

Padding to the bed, Weiss climbed in as she always did, preferring the wall to the edge even decades later. Rolling over, the single thin sheet pulled back for Roman as he approached.  She watched him slide in beside her, scooting closer until he was curling around her smaller form as she tangled their legs together and wrapping her arms around him in turn. For some reason, it made him chuckle even as he pressed a gentle kiss to the crown of her head and settled down, his breathing evening out moments later.  Warm. Solid. Impossible for her not to draw comfort from.  

Slipping into a doze, she followed him into sleep, holding tight to the same flicker of _hope_ she’d nurtured diligently for the last few months. 

             **-0-**

Something drew wakefulness back to her. 

A sense of movement.  A new lack of steady warmth.  It took Weiss a moment to realize that Roman had tried to pull away in his sleep, rolling mostly onto his back before her sleep-tight grip held him fast and he’d stilled again.  The evening’s earlier ache, settled somewhere behind her breast, returned. Perhaps she’d somewhat expected it. He’d always tried removing her from harm’s way as best he could.  

But…

Was he truly going to put space between them now?  To turn away from her even after decades of touch and silent, faithful attention?  She knew, for certain now, what was coming and would have none of his sheltering. Never before had she accepted it, even when necessary, and that was not about to change now. 

Throwing a leg over his, she rolled to plant her head square on his bare chest.  She felt him begin to purr at her touch, resonating through her very bones, and swallowed thickly.  “I won’t let you be alone, Romano.” She whispered, listening to his heart, and as it seemed to slow her voice broke. “Smoke and Mirrors, you and me.”  She gripped him tighter, feeling the hurt welling up inside her as tears began to gather. “Worlds intertwined.”

Her Aura snapped into being, one last attempt to stop harm, yet all it did was bring him fully into her awareness. She was so very aware of him. His heart and breath so _slow_ now, his Aura brushing back against hers, feather-light. “I’ll find you again,” she murmured through her tears, voice almost keening, as his pulse seemed to stutter.  “Wait for me near the door, my Romano Bohemian Torchwick.”

His purr faltered with a final breath, Aura fading like mist on a breeze. Exhaling with him, she held her own for one long moment but there was no pulse beneath her ear and his chest did not rise again, then she began to cry in earnest. Softly, not with screams or sobs, she let her tears fall long into the morning light. 

When her tears finally stopped, something inside her clicking into place, Weiss climbed from the bed and gently pulled the sheet up over her husband, “I love you.”  After washing her face and dressing in her old skirt and blouse – a match to the set she’d worn decades ago – Weiss calmly activated her scroll. 

_ From: Weiss ST  
Roman passed in the night. _

That was all.  It was all that needed to be said.  Sent to everyone who needed to know.

Mentally picking up an old mask, she felt the contours of who she’d been: a regal Heiress, crowned above the rest by birth. Turning over herself in her mind, she looked to who she’d become. A mother who loved her children, a wife who loved her husband, a business woman who loved her people.  Squaring her shoulders, she carefully closed the door to her empty bed room – _Roman_ had moved on, to wait for her Elsewhere – before leaving the house for her office. There were things to be done. His body would be cremated, and she didn’t think Ruby – or he – would mind if his ashes were spread at the cliff. After all, they both had left a mark on him, and on each other.

Over the course of the day, as she set things in motion and prepared others, her scroll seemed to never stop moving. It buzzed with message notifications or calls, family and friends offering condolences or stating they would arrive as soon as they could.  It was all very comforting, a balm over faded hurt. Especially when Winter said she and Penny would arrive in the morning, bringing Qrow, and would send a transport for anyone that had need.

Even Ozpin – and the man seemed ageless – said he and Glynda would come.

**-0-**

A week after the funeral, Weiss quietly asked Penny – ever faithful Penny – to accompany her back to the cliff. The ‘Independently Owned and Operated’ Synthetic Huntress had smiled, calm and soft, “Anything, Dear Friend Weiss.”

And thus, an hour or so later, she found herself traversing the forest towards Ruby’s grave, her friend quiet and comforting by her side.

She’d come to love the Spring, and it was oddly comforting that her season would end here. Moving from the trees – Penny waiting patiently with a faint, sad smile – Weiss stepped lightly up to the marker. Not sparing a glance for the much older one beside it, she drew Myrternaster for what she knew would be the last time.

Piercing the ground beside the stonework, she triggered the most powerful burst of her Aura in her decades of life as she pulled the release on her rapier-

-and a small rose of Ice Dust – barely bigger than her head – formed around the base of her blade, leaning into Ruby’s marker. It sparkled in the morning light, with the sun just peeking over the trees behind her, and Weiss imagined she could hear a faint gasp of awe in an achingly familiar voice.

“There. Just like I’d wanted, like I imagined, back before... before you left, before I found Roman. I’m sorry my body won’t be here beside you, Ruru, but I know you wouldn’t mind.” She let go of her faithful weapon, leaving it to stand guard, “I... I know Yang used to joke, about us. She never was one to avoid a chance to see any of us embarrassed. And maybe there was some basis to it.”

There was a gentle breeze, teasing her hair across her cheek as she knelt, and reaching out with a wrinkled and weathered hand to rest against Ruby’s name on the stone she continued, “I did, I realize now, love you. Not like Yang teased, but love all the same. My _best_ friend, my first friend, my partner...” she gave a gentle smile, “Well, keep Roman in line, Ruru, I’ll be along shortly. Dust knows _someone_ has to keep the both of you in line, you’d never manage it without me.”

Standing, Weiss stepped back and spent just a little more Aura to summon a familiar – though smaller – form. The Knight stood, sword in hand with the tip in the grass, a silent blue-white guardian. Though draining, this was a small thing and was not as taxing as she’d feared when she came here.

 It would hold, long enough. Just until the next morning’s light.

Walking back over to Penny, right at the edge of the trees, Weiss sent a final glance back. She almost wished Roman had seen it... but he had spent his time and more besides. Far more than she could’ve ever hoped.

“You’ll watch over them.” it was a statement of trust and not a question, and Penny simply gave a nod, “They’ll be here tomorrow, I’m certain. They’ve gone almost too long without a weapon, Signal can only wait so long. I know she’ll serve them well.”

Smiling, age finally settling around her, Weiss began a slow walk back, “Come along, Dear Friend. It’s Spring, and I fancy a picnic with such nice weather."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm very satisfied with this story that Zephyrus and I have made. From a moment of inspiration I shared with Zeph, to planning and writing, to now - years later - with the posting of the final chapter. I hope everyone who has read to this point enjoyed the journey.  
> If you want to more easily ask me questions, present prompts, or see the piece of art I commissioned, you can find me on Tumblr as brokenrealitylooper.
> 
> To the curious, the Team name/vegetable pun Weiss thinks of is "Carrot" [KGTT, which is also the order in which they were born]
> 
> Snip from my new RWBY story:  
> \---  
> A bunk above her, ropes visible at the corners, is the first to register as ice blue eye drift open.  
> Soft sheets and a nightgown against her skin, a lumpy but comfortable mattress beneath her, and then the smell of a clean room occupied by a dog and, beneath that, the faint smell of several perfumes and-  
> Roses.  
> “Ruby…?”  
> \---


End file.
